The Tangled Mist
by ThePeacockFeather
Summary: The tale of Harry Potter is over and done with, but there is another story that took place at Hogwarts at the same time. Winter has always been spoiled with attention and assistance from Dumbledore, but when she starts first year at Hogwarts, she must learn to become independent and do things on her own. My take on the old Voldy's daughter cliche! Yay!
1. Preface: The Prophecy

**A/N: I know what you're thinking! You're thinking, "Lady! What is wrong with you?! Why are you starting ANOTHER story when you have, like, four that are unfinished?! Stop this madness! Go finish your other stories before you start this one!"**

**Okay, well… I finished reading Harry Potter a few weeks ago, and I just could not contain myself. I _had_ to write something on Harry Potter. So… This is the first chapter of my newest story! This is my first Harry Potter story so feel free to leave your thoughts in the reviews. Constructive criticism is, of course, welcome. And praise is also very much appreciated, obviously :3 Eh-hem… anyways, I hope you enjoy! And don't forget, I don't own anything Harry Potter.**

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The Tangled Mist

*Preface: The Prophecy*

Prophecies are never clear. Albus Dumbledore has lived long and has experienced enough to know that. He knew from the moment Sybill Trelawney spoke to him that night in the attic of the Hog's Head bar that he had just heard a message from Fate itself.

Of course, the Hog's Head was not a good place to have such an important event. Dumbledore would have been a fool to not suspect that someone was eavesdropping on him and Sybill.

Not wanting to waste any precious time, Dumbledore had hurried out of the Hog's Head, and his first destination was the Ministry of Magic. The old wizard didn't bother to try and remember the Prophecy because he knew that when a prophecy is meant to be heard by someone, that person would have the ability to recall it perfectly.

The Ministry of Magic was headed by a wise and fair Minister at this time. Taking Dumbledore's account seriously, he had ordered a record of the Prophecy be built in the shape of a small sphere of magical materials.

At about this time, Dumbledore's suspicions about an eavesdropper at the Hog's Head were confirmed.

Miles from the Ministry of Magic, a barman from the Hog's Head had heard part of the Prophecy, a small part in the beginning of the prediction that spoke of a boy that is to be born at the end of the month of July to parents who have escaped the Dark Lord thrice. The barman, a follower of this Dark Lord, had immediately reported back to his master.

Although the barman was not able to tell the Dark Lord the entire Prophecy, it was enough to frighten this Dark wizard very much. The Dark Lord, his name was Lord Voldemort, had understood enough of the Prophecy to piece together the fact that a wizard who will have the power to defeat him, Voldemort, will be born very soon.

And so, Lord Voldemort set out to destroy this wizard that would one day be his down fall. He searched far and wide for parents that have escaped him three times.

After over a year of searching, Lord Voldemort was able to locate the home of Lily and James Potter and their son who was barely a year old, Harry Potter, born on July 31.

It was the night of Halloween when Voldemort stormed into the cottage of the Potter family, determined to kill the only threat to his existence. With one curse, the Dark Lord killed James Potter instantly and stepped over his body to get to Lily who was desperately begging for Voldemort to spare Harry.

Voldemort raised his wand again and struck her down with the same curse he had used on her husband. At last there was no one standing in the Dark Lord's way. He approached the cradle in which little Harry stood, staring at Lily Potter's motionless body.

The Dark Lord did not hesitate at all as he raised his wand one last time, aiming the Killing Curse directly at Harry's forehead.

They say that your loved ones never truly leave you. That was the case for Harry. He should have fallen quite easily to Lord Voldemort's curse; however his mother's spirit stayed in the room with him after she died.

Lily's soul lingered with her son and protected him from the Killing Curse.

Before Voldemort knew what was happening, his spell had turned on him. With a flash of blinding green light, Harry Potter gained the scar on his forehead that would make him famous someday, and Lord Voldemort was left barely alive, shriveled up on the floor in front of Harry's cradle.

And so Lord Voldemort, the most powerful wizard of all time, fled the cottage of the Potters and was never seen again.

Remember when I said that Lord Voldemort never heard the whole Prophecy? Well, this is when that becomes important.

At the end of Sybill Trelawney's prediction, there was a single phrase that mentioned me, Winter Riddle, daughter of Voldemort and the veela Arbela. Of course, the Prophecy never actually used my name or told of my parentage, but Dumbledore was smart enough to figure out that it was about me.

That is why the old wizard rescued me from my fate when I was just over a year old.

My mother was a smart and understanding woman. She handed me over to Dumbledore without hesitation.

Afterwards, Dumbledore took me to a very safe place, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There, he watched over me as if I were his own granddaughter, and that is what I believed for a long time until I was fifteen. But that is another story, and we mustn't get too ahead of ourselves.

This story that you are reading at the moment began when I was eleven years old and attending my first year of official magic education.

At Hogwarts, a student attends school for seven years beginning from the year they turn eleven. My seven school years have been most interesting, at least compared to your humble Muggles lives.

This little story is only about my first year. I do not wish to tell you too much before I decide that you can be trusted to read my more personal tales which lie mostly in my later years.

Now proceed, dear Muggle reader, and satisfy your hunger for more Harry Potter literature.

_-Winter Riddle _


	2. Winter at the Leaky Cauldron

*Chapter One: Winter at the Leaky Cauldron*

_Dear Diary,_

_Professor Dumbledore told me that he is going to take me to Diagon Alley today to get my supplies for school. I haven't been to Diagon Alley in so long; I've almost forgotten what it looks like! I simply cannot wait to receive my wand and spell books. Professor Dumbledore was very angry with me when I had picked up his wand and waved it around a couple of weeks ago. I feel bad to have made him so uncomfortable. He told me that wands are not toys and that I must be properly educated before using one so casually._

_This morning, Professor Flitwick was telling me about Harry Potter again. I think that I have written about him before. It is now official that he would be attending Hogwarts this year. Everyone seems to be happy about it so I suppose I should be too. The only person who seems to be unaffected by the idea of Harry Potter was Professor Trelawney. Then again… she's not exactly the brightest spark in the night, always wandering around with this misty look in her eyes. I do worry about her sometimes. _

_I've noticed that Professor Snape always seems to stiffen when I, or anyone else, mention the name Harry Potter. I can tell that he is definitely alert to it, but not in a positive way like every other teacher here at Hogwarts. About a month ago, I tried to slowly approach the topic while I was helping him sort the frog eyeballs used in Potions class, but the result made me regret ever bringing the subject up. Professor Snape had gone quiet, looking a bit gloomy and bitter. And the rest of our time together was awkwardly silent. After that horrible experience, I have learned to not bring up Harry Potter in front of Professor Snape. _

_From what I have read about in the most recent edition of _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot, courtesy of the Hogwarts library, I've found that Harry Potter is only a few months younger than me. He would have turned eleven just two weeks ago. And apparently he lives with Muggles. I had frowned at this. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Muggles, but shouldn't such a famous figure in magical history at least live with magical people? There are some things in this world I just can't figure out…_

_It is nearly 10:00 now. Professor Dumbledore should be taking me to Diagon Alley at 10:20. I ought to get dressed. I've spent the entire morning wandering around the castle in my nightgown. Professor McGonagall gave me a disapproving look at breakfast this morning when I skipped into the Great Hall wearing only my owl shaped slippers and a long, silky, cerulean nightdress. I really can't understand what harm it does to wear your nightie to breakfast, but if Professor McGonagall doesn't like it, I was taught to respect her opinion and try my best not to do it again, even though I heard Professor Flitwick and Sprout say that it was quite adorable. Professor Dumbledore was trying to hide it, but I could tell he was trying very hard not to smile._

_I really should stop writing now. Perhaps when I come back from Diagon Alley, I'll start again._

_-Winter _

Winter looked up from her parchment diary and carefully placed her Self-Inking eagle feather quill upon her bedside table. She glanced over the journal entry, smiling in satisfaction at her own good penmanship. Raising the diary to her face, she began blowing air on the writing, helping the ink to dry.

Once the pages were no longer wet, Winter carefully closed the leather covered diary and slid it under a large, fluffy pillow at the head of the canopied bed she laid on.

Bouncing out of the bed, Winter's feet searched the hard wooden floor for her slippers.

Her room was circular and spacious thanks to the high ceiling. It was also bright all the time because of the two giant windows, one facing east and the other facing the west. There was a soft round rug in from of Winter's princess-like bed. On that rug was a large grey wolf with glowing yellow eyes. He watched Winter's every move as the girl found her slippers and quickly slipped them on.

Winter skipped away from her bed, over the wolf, and to the other end of the room where a shiny wooden dresser sat accompanied with a matching wardrobe. She opened the beautifully carved doors and stepped inside.

The wardrobe looked very small on the outside but was much bigger once someone entered it.

"Hmm…" Winter mused thoughtfully as she flipped through the many dresses and coats that were stored in the wardrobe. Her alert eyes locked on a simple, crispy green sundress.

Moments later, Winter emerged from the wardrobe wearing the dress and a little daisy shaped clip in her curly, shoulder length, ebony black hair. "Well?" she asked the wolf that sat on her rug. "Do you like it, Huntington?"

The wolf, whose name was Huntington, simply sniffed the skirts of the dress and quickly lost interest. He patiently planted his hind quarters on the rug again and began playing with a ball of fuzz on the floor.

Winter didn't seem to care about the wolf's lack of attention to her dress. She happily walked to a full-body mirror that sat beside the wardrobe and took a good look at herself. "Mirror, mirror, what is your opinion?" she spoke to the glass expectantly.

Suddenly, her reflection came to life. It tapped its chin thoughtfully, looking Winter up and down. "Very nice, Winter, the green goes wonderfully with your eyes. However, that pendant doesn't look very good…" she pointed at a strange, mist filled orb attached to a silver string around the girl's neck.

Winter frowned at her reflection with hurt. "You know I'm not taking that off," she said and fingered the orb carefully. The color changing mist inside moved and churned like silk. "Professor Dumbledore gave it to me." Winter continued. "He told me to try my best to keep it on at all times, and I will obey him. And besides, I think it is very beautiful."

The reflection snorted at Winter's excuse. "Well, if you weren't going to take my advice, why did you summon me in the first place?" it replied hotly. "I'm a magic mirror, and I am always correct. I remember a time when a queen used to consult me every day, 'Who is the fairest in the land?' and I always gave the truthful, correct answer. Although it did lead to the tragic death of a certain princess… Perhaps the truth isn't always safe…"

Winter sighed as her mirror began murmuring to itself about its past. She glanced at the large hourglass that stood on her bedside table, flowing glittering gold sand, and decided that she was already late to go to Diagon Alley. Winter whistled for her pet, "Huntington, come!"

The big wolf gracefully got up from its sitting position and trotted over to its mistress.

Winter gave the wolf an affectionate scratch behind the ear before exiting her room with Huntington leading the way, sniffing curiously at every step of the long spiral staircase that led down from Winter's room to the castle's main corridors and chambers.

Torches with blue fire in them lit the way down the steps. Winter and Huntington soon arrived at a heavy wooden door with a worn brass handle. With much effort, the girl turned the handle and pushed with all her might to get the door to swing open slowly.

She poked her head out from behind the door to look into the hallway that the door had opened to. At first, Winter saw no one. A second later, however, she noticed a shape turning the corner at the end of the wide corridor.

It was small and furry with red eyes like lasers. Winter soon recognized it as Mrs. Norris, the cat of the caretaker Mr. Filch. The feline was leisurely strolling around, but immediately froze when it saw Winter and her pet.

Winter bent down and patted Huntington's back as the wolf tensed. She could hear the low growl that came from the back of its throat. The duo had never liked Mrs. Norris. Winter found the cat to be overly suspicious of every living thing it sees.

The cat always showed up to annoy Huntington by staring at the wolf with suspecting crimson eyes. Being a creature with much pride, Huntington did not enjoy this at all.

Mrs. Norris let out a menacing hiss in reply to the wolf's growl.

Winter jerked Huntington's fur a little. "Huntington, let's go. Leave Mrs. Norris alone." Although she wasn't very fond of the cat, Winter didn't want any of the animals to get hurt in a fight. She knew that Mrs. Norris was a coward without Mr. Filch to protect it. As long as Huntington doesn't attack, the cat shouldn't go around looking for a fight.

With much coaxing from Winter, the wolf turned away from Mrs. Norris and followed its mistress in the opposite direction, away from the cat.

It was very quiet as they made their way through around many corners and up and down sets of stairs to reach the Headmaster's office. Most of the teachers were shut in their classrooms, possibly writing down lesson plans for the coming school year, Winter thought.

She passed the Great Hall in which the four House tables stood. Although they haven't been used all summer, no dust had gathered, and the silver plates were as tidy and shiny as ever. Jogging up a short spiral staircase, she reached another long corridor. Winter easily navigated the maze-like turns and twists of the castle's ancient halls and came to a large gargoyle statue.

The statue was alive and searching up and down the passageway for any sign of intruders. It noticed Winter approaching. "Password?" it asked the girl when she stood in front of it.

"Chocolate Frogs," Winter replied.

The gargoyle statue leapt aside, revealing yet another narrow spiral staircase that led up. "Dumbledore should really change that password," it sniffed as Winter and Huntington hurried past it. "It's been 'Chocolate Frogs' for almost two months now."

Winter and Huntington ran up the stairs, torches with gold flames lit their way. At the top of the steps was a big brass door. Winter reached up a hand to civilly knock on the door to Professor Dumbledore's office.

But before her knuckles made contact with the brass, the door flew open and there stood the almighty Albus Dumbledore in his midnight blue robes, pointed wizard hat, and half-moon spectacles. Being a tall man, he had to look down to see the petite Winter.

"Winter," he said, looking down at her with kind eyes. "I've been waiting for you to come and find me. I believe I promised a trip to Diagon Alley?"

Winter smiled and bowed to Dumbledore, "Professor, I hope I am not intruding on anything important," she spoke in a polite, calm voice.

"Not at all," said Dumbledore. "Let us not waste time standing here. I think that it would be best to Apparate to the Leaky Cauldron. Come, Winter."

Winter followed Dumbledore into his office. The room was filled with curious silver instruments, and large desk was at the center, littered with parchment. There were paintings all along the walls of previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts. The people in the paintings were alive, chatting with each other or sleeping with their mouth halfway open and a drop of drool falling down their chin.

Winter bowed respectfully to every one of the paintings before catching up to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had taken out his wand, a strange one with a tiny knob every few centimeters. He motioned for Winter to join him and arched an eyebrow when he noticed her leading Huntington into the room as well. "You wish to bring him?"

"Yes, Professor," the girl replied. "I think that Huntington needs his exercise. It's been a long time since he's gone for a good stroll outside of the school grounds."

Dumbledore nodded, understanding this. He held out his arm to Winter. "Hold on tightly," he cautioned after Winter had latched herself onto his sleeve.

Winter nodded eagerly, tightened her grip on Dumbledore's arm, and squeezed Huntington closer to her side to ensure that the wolf would not be left behind.

Dumbledore waved his wand with little effort, and Winter braced herself.

There was a sudden pop as they warped away from the Headmaster's office. Winter could feel the world spinning around them even though it was very dark. There was a large amount of pressure on her body, and she felt like her eyes were being pushed to the back of their sockets and eardrums deeper into her ear. Wind whipped at her hair, and for a moment, the girl worried that her hairclip might be blown off. The sensation of Apparating wasn't a comfortable one. Just as Winter thought that she might throw up, the feeling of gone. There was another pop, and their feet hit the solid stone road in front of a large, shabby pub.

A blue sign dangled from a chain read _The Leaky Cauldron._ A Muggle bookstore was open on the pub's right while a Muggle music store stood to its left. Winter instinctively checked to make sure that Huntington had not been lost along the Apparation journey or splinched.

The wolf was still standing beside the girl, looking a little bit queasy but was otherwise perfectly fine with all of its body parts safely attached.

Winter patted Huntington comfortingly on its head. "Good boy," she whispered.

Dumbledore had already begun making his way up to the narrow entrance way of the Leaky Cauldron.

Winter hurried after him with Huntington trailing behind her. They entered the pub and found it to be very full. Most of the tables and chairs were occupied by people who were reading the newspaper, drinking butterbeer, or having conversations in very loud voices.

The pub itself was brightly lit by fat candles on a heavy chandelier. A man stood at the ordering window at the back of the room, pleasantly pouring firewhiskey into two large mugs. His face lit up when he saw Dumbledore and Winter.

"Good day to you, Professor Dumbledore," He was quite old and had no hair on his walnut-like head. His sly appearance was not the most welcoming, but Winter liked him very much.

"Thank you, Tom," Dumbledore said with a small smile.

"Hello, Mr. Tom," Winter said politely. "You're looking very wonderful today."

Tom turned toward Winter and widened his eyes. "Is that you, Winter? Dear Merlin, you've grown since the last time I saw you… which was…?" he tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"Eight months ago, sir," Winter supplied. "Almost nine months now."

"Yes, yes, it's been far too long. What brings you and Professor Dumbledore to the Leaky Cauldron on this fine day?"

Winter was more than happy to tell him. "We're going to Diagon Alley, sir. I will be attending Hogwarts this year, and Professor Dumbledore has kindly offered to take me to buy a wand and the books I will need for school. Isn't that lovely of him?"

"Ah…" Tom grinned upon hearing this. "I remember my first year at Hogwarts like it was yesterday. I was sorted into Gryffindor House, you know. With that bright spirit of yours, Winter, I'm certain the Sorting Hat will put you in Gryffindor, too." He gave Winter a friendly wink.

"Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Tom," Winter said with gratitude. "I should be going now. Diagon Alley awaits me."

"Of course, of course," Tom gave a wave to the courtyard at the back of the pub. "Please, go ahead."

Winter and Dumbledore stepped toward the door that led to the patio. The Headmaster had his wand raised again.

"Huntington!" Winter suddenly turned and hissed loudly.

The wolf, with no one paying attention to it, had wandered away from Winter and Dumbledore and begun bothering a squat little witch who was minding her own business, reading _The Daily Prophet._ Huntington sniffed aggressively at the witch's bright pink clothes and shoved its long snout down own of the pockets.

The witch was very awkwardly trying to shake the wolf off but not daring to make it angry. "Shoo! Go, you mutt!" she waved his rolled up newspaper at Huntington. "Go! Go away!"

Huntington had ignored her and continued to dig around in the lady's pockets, pulling out a shiny, expensive looking locket. With the accessory in its mouth, the wolf attempted to bring it to Winter, but the witch savagely lashed out and grabbed the chain of the locket, desperately trying to pull it back.

Before the Huntington and the witch could put up a real fight, Winter had noticed her pet's absence and hissed, "Huntington!"

Huntington dropped the locket reluctantly and cowered a little, doing a good job at looking innocent. It glanced over at Winter shamefully and slowly trotted back to the girl with its tail between its legs.

Winter hurried over to the woman Huntington had been disturbing. "I'm so sorry, miss. Please forgive Huntington's nosiness. He isn't usually like this!"

The witch had quickly stuffed her locket into the little purse she was holding. She wore a bright pink dress and a matching pink jacket over the dress. Even her purse was in a shade of magenta that matched her clothing. Her face was plump from what Winter could observe and she had smile crinkles.

Usually, Winter saw smile crinkles as the sign of a good and nice person who obviously smiled a lot. But with this witch, Winter noticed something malicious in her irises despite the small wrinkles at the corners of her beady black eyes that suggested otherwise.

The witch threw Huntington a look of pure loathe and a tiny bit of fear. She then made eye contact with Winter and smiled sweetly like everyone's favorite grandmother.

"Well then," she began quietly, almost at a pleasant whisper that harmonized with the forgiving expression on her face. "That was most unpleasant. You'd best keep that beast on a leash!"

Winter almost stumbled back and tripped over a chair. This lady's words surprised her. She, the lady, wore a mask of kindness and generosity on her face, but her words and tone were venomous. Winter could now understand why her, Winter's, Good-Person Radar hadn't gone off when she met the lady with smile crinkles.

"I…I – please forgive us," Winter bowed her head and tried to make Huntington do the same, but the wolf defiantly refused.

"Wait," the witch suddenly grabbed Winter's wrist and pulled her closer for examination.

Winter gasped, her eyes widened in fear. Her immediate react was to jerk away, but the witch had an iron grip.

The witch stared at Winter in a way that made the girl very uncomfortable. She, the witch, narrowed her eyes with hatred after a few seconds. "I thought so, you're a filthy little half – "

Dumbledore arrived at that moment, "I must ask you to kindly release Winter, Delores," he said calmly. "What Huntington did was perfectly normal of him. He is trained to find powerful magical objects, and your locket must have attracted his attention."

The witch's glance quickly shifted to Dumbledore and was filled with even more loathe than before. But she quickly recovered, plastering another fake smile across her face. "Oh, I'm sorry," she whispered innocently, letting go of Winter.

Winter, who was gingerly rubbing her wrist, looked up when she heard Dumbledore address the witch. "Your name is Delores?" she asked curiously. _Where have I heard that name before…?_

"Winter," Dumbledore said. "This is Delores Jane Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic."

A memory flashed before Winter's eyes. When she was nine years old, she had heard Dumbledore talking about an anti-mermaid campaign that was instigated by a person called Delores Umbridge. Thankfully, the Headmaster put a stop to it before it could take any real effect.

Umbridge continues to smile in a sweet manner, "Ah, Albus Dumbledore, it's been a long time, hasn't it?" Winter was certain that she, Umbridge, must still hold a grudge against Dumbledore for taking down her anti-mermaid movement before it even started.

"Winter and I are in a hurry, Delores," Dumbledore said. His tone did not contain any bitterness toward Umbridge. "We will be taking our leave now."

Winter followed Dumbledore away from the witch. She looked back at her once and saw Umbridge shoot Huntington a disgusted look. Winter frowned and bent down to rub the top of the wolf's head comfortingly. She knew at once that she did not like the Senior Undersecretary of the Ministry of Magic.


	3. Diagon Alley Shopping Spree

*Chapter Two: Diagon Alley Shopping Spree*

They exited the pub and into the courtyard which was surrounded by a tall brick wall. Dumbledore raised his wand and tapped a certain brick that could be found by counting three up and two across, three times.

The wall began vibrating, shaking dirt and tiny pieces of mortar off of the bricks. Then the wall neatly folded away revealing a spectacular sight.

Diagon Alley stretched head for as far as the eye could see. It was a long, narrow cobbled road that was packed with wizards and witches. Stores were open on both sides of the walkway. Winter saw groups of people huddle around the windows of some of the shops, admiring whatever new product that was being sold there. A few parents had to run to catch up to their excited children as they dove into the store that sold the best broomsticks in London. There was a quaint little ice cream shop on the left side of the street with people sitting under umbrellas and licking at their sundaes.

Winter looked back and saw that the brick wall had repaired itself, leaving no sign that it had been cracked open mere seconds ago.

In a busy place like Diagon Alley, the girl knew that she could easily get lost and must not leave Dumbledore's side. The nearest shop was Flourish & Blotts, identified by a gold sign hanging over the entrance way. Winter gently tugged on Dumbledore's sleeve to get the Headmaster's attention and pointed at the bookstore. "May I please buy my textbooks first, Professor?"

Dumbledore nodded and they both joined the traffic of shoppers walking up and down the street.

Winter felt eyes turn to stare at them. Or, more specifically, to stare at Professor Dumbledore. Winter looked up at the Headmaster to see if he noticed the strange looks they were receiving.

The old wizard looked perfectly at ease with a little smile gracing his lips.

Winter decided to follow his example. She held her head high and smile pleasantly at everyone they passed.

While older wizards gaped at Dumbledore, the children, who probably didn't know who the Headmaster was, stared curiously at Winter.

Winter was used to children trying to get a good look at her eyes. She understood that her irises really attract people's attention. They were blue-green and had tiny freckles in them that emphasized her pupil. And as if that wasn't enough to draw interest to herself, her eye lids had an faint, natural, smoky shadow even though she wasn't old enough to wear makeup. This shadow created the illusion that her eyes glow a little.

Winter always thought that this made her look like a demon or a very exotic lizard of some sort. But Dumbledore had told her that her eyes are unique and beautiful and that she should not be ashamed of them.

Sticking close to the Hogwarts Headmaster, Winter arrived at the entrance of Flourish & Blotts. She turned the knob and opened the door, politely allowing Dumbledore and Huntington to enter the shop first.

The shop was very much like the stereotypical bookstore. All, but one, of the four walls of the store were shelves stuffed with textbooks. There was even a section on a nearby shelf that held _The Invisible Book of Invisibility_ which appeared empty.

Winter's eyes had widened in horror when she saw a cage in the store window that held a dozen copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters._ She jumped away from the cage when one of the books tried to break out, snapping its covers violently. Winter nervously asked Dumbledore, "I'm not required to get _The Monster Book of Monsters_ this year, is that right, Professor?"

When Dumbledore shook his head, she let out a sigh of relief.

Dumbledore produced a roll of parchment from his sleeve and handed it to Winter. "These are the things you need for Hogwarts. Let us split up to look for them."

Winter took the list and glanced at it before setting off to look for _The Standard Book of Spells._

As Winter browsed the shelves carefully with Huntington sniffing curiously at Herbology books, another family had entered the shop. They appeared to be very confused and at the same time fascinated by everything around them. Winter assumed that they are probably a Muggle family that was fortunate enough to have a child blessed with magical talents.

There was a mother, a father, and a girl close to Winter's age with bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and a bossy sort of aura.

The father, obviously a Muggle, noticed the caged copies of _The Monster Book of Monsters _and very foolishly tried to stick his finger into the cage to see if the books were real.

"Stop!" Winter warned loudly, making the whole family jump.

The Muggle family looked at Winter strangely, possibly wondering who this girl with shadowy eyes was.

Huntington perked up at the Muggle family and instantly trotted up to them, sniffing them suspiciously. When he smelled nothing unusual, he relaxed and skipped back to his mistress.

"I wouldn't try to touch those again if I were you, sir," Winter continued to the father, trying to not let an awkward silence envelope them. "Those books are real and can seriously hurt you. I presume you are Muggles, yes? Do you need any help?"

The girl with bushy hair seemed a lot more at ease than her parents. She stepped toward Winter and held out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger, and you are…?"

"Winter Dumbledore," Winter replied, and shook Hermione's hand. "And that is Huntington," she gestured to the wolf who was absently licking his paw. "Is this your first time in Diagon Alley?"

"I'm afraid we are very lost," Hermione's mother said, looking pitifully helpless. "We tried to get Hermione some robes, but the manager wouldn't take our money. She said something about going to a place called Gringotts…"

Winter piped up. "Are you still using Muggle currency?"

The Grangers looked at her in utter confusion.

"In the magical world, we use Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts," Winter tried her best to make sense in the face of a trio of Muggles. "There are 29 Knuts in a Sickle, 17 Sickles in a Galleon, which means that 493 Knuts are in a Galleon… I know, it's confusing, and Gringotts is a wizarding bank. You can trade your Muggle money for magical currency. The bank is a bit further up Diagon Alley and managed by goblins." – Mr. and Mrs. Granger's eyes widened in sheer horror at this – "But don't worry," Winter quickly recovered after noticing the shocked expressions on the Grangers' faces. "Goblins are very civilized, I assure you –"

Winter decided to just stop talking at this point. She expected the Grangers to take off down Diagon Alley, to the Leaky Cauldron, and back into the Muggle world, never to be seen again.

However, Hermione defiantly and stood her ground, looking very determined now. "Come on, Mum, Dad, let's go to Gringotts." She turned on her heels and began making her way out the door.

Her parents stared at her with bewilderment. "Hermione, why-"

"To trade our money for Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons, of course," the youngest Granger replied. "Otherwise, how will we buy my supplies for Hogwarts?"

Mr. and Mrs. Granger, clearly surprised that their daughter still wanted to attend Hogwarts, gawked at Hermione as she unwaveringly exited Flourish & Blotts and walked deeper into Diagon Alley where Gringotts Wizarding Bank stood in all its beautiful glory.

Winter became at ease when the Grangers were gone. The last thing she wanted to do was scare an entire Muggle family away from the wonderful magical world.

Shaking her head, she resumed looking for her own textbooks.

Moments later, Winter found Dumbledore, after picking up _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, A History of Magic, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, The Standard Book of Spells: Grade I, _and_ Magical Theory._ She had also found an enchanted book bag that can hold an infinite mass of books without taking up space of adding weight.

Dumbledore had managed to find _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, _and _Magical Drafts and Potions._

"Professor," Winter addressed Dumbledore as she, the Headmaster, and Huntington waited in line to pay for their purchase. "I met a Muggle family a few minutes ago." She explained to the Headmaster how the Grangers were in need of help and had gone to Gringotts after Winter tried to clarify about magical currency. "Do you think they'll be alright with the goblins?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled a little in amusement. "Gringotts goblins offer only the best service, Winter. I don't think that Miss Hermione Granger will have a problem with them from what you've told me about her."

Winter held the large stack of textbooks while Dumbledore dug four Galleons, five Sickles, and ten Knuts from his money pouch and handed them to the store manager to pay for their items.

Then they took their leave from Flourish & Blotts, moving on to the shop directly beside the bookstore, a place called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

Again, Winter hurried ahead and, being a polite girl, held the door open for the others before entering the shop herself.

Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was a relatively large shop. Robes of all colors hung on racks in one large corner of the store. In another corner was a short stepstool with fabric, ribbons, and a measuring tape littered around it. Winter assumed that that was the place where Madam Malkin fits new costumers. Mirrors were scattered around the room, and a mannequin wearing beautiful silver robes stood on a pedestal like a centerpiece for the store.

A plump little lady, baring quite a resemblance to Delores Umbridge, appeared from behind a clothes rack. She wore clothes of mauve, thin glasses, and very friendly smile. "Come in, come in! Is that you, Dumbledore?"

"Good day, madam," Dumbledore bowed his head to her.

Winter, who was meeting Madam Malkin for the first time, was taught to be courteous and mannerly when greeting new people. She smiled cordially at Malkin, "It is a joy to meet you, ma'am. My name is Winter. Perhaps you can help me find a comfortable robe for Hogwarts? Preferably light-weight and not too tight."

Malkin appeared to be pleased with the girl's manners. "The pleasure is all mine, Winter. Professor Dumbledore has told me about you, you know. Yes, polite, intelligent, and just _adorable!_"

Winter beamed at Malkin's compliments.

"Well then, come on, dearie," Malkin said, holding a hand to the girl. "Let's see what I can get for you. Yes, that's it, step onto this stool…" she helped her onto the stepstool from earlier. "That's it, now spread your arms out and hold still for a moment.

Winter stood there with her arms held out like wings as she watched her pick up a measuring tape.

Malkin carefully measured Winter's arms and height, muttering numbers to herself after every dimension. After a moment or two, the robe dealer retreated to the clothes racks, telling Winter, "You wait here for a minute, I'll be right back with your robes."

While she was gone, Winter sat down on the stool and watched the people pass in the streets. Huntington waltzed up to her and shoved his head under the girl's hand. Then something struck Winter's mind. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes?"

"Harry Potter," she began. "Is he here today? It would be so exciting to meet him! Have you sent him his Hogwarts letter yet? Are you sure his Muggle family would bring him here to Diagon Alley?"

Dumbledore was unfazed by Winter's sudden topic of conversation. "I have not sent him his Hogwarts letter yet. And I doubt that Harry's aunt and uncle would take him here. But I would like to give them a chance."

"And if they don't let Harry attend Hogwarts, what will you do?"

"I would most likely have Hagrid go and retrieve the boy," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure that he'll be able to convince the Muggles to let go of Harry."

Winter spotted a glint of amusement in his eyes again. She smiled, knowing that this kind man was her guardian. "What House do you think Harry Potter will be sorted into?"

Dumbledore thought about this for a few seconds. "My best guess would be Gryffindor as that was the House of both of his parents, but one cannot tell. The Sorting Hat has a funny way of looking at things."

Winter hesitated before cautiously asking her next question, "And me? What House do you think _I'm_ fit for?"

For a second, Winter saw a flash of panic in Dumbledore's kind blue eyes, but the Headmaster was very quick to hide it. "That is an excellent question, Winter," he spoke carefully. "Like Tom had said, you would get along very well with Gryffindor, I suppose. However, - "

"Here you are, dearie," Madam Malkin had returned with four black robes draped over her arm. "Come now, try these on," she motioned Winter back onto the stepstool and helped her put on the first robe.

The black fabric covered up Winter's sundress and most of her body, falling to the floor even though the girl was standing on an eight inch tall stool. Winter looked tiny in the oversized robe.

Madam Malkin stepped back to admire her choice, but noticed the size problem too. "Don't worry, honey," she said, taking back the first robe and picking up another, a few sizes smaller this time. "Try on this one, will you?"

Winter nodded and slid it on. She beamed when she saw that the robe fitted her very well. Turning to get a good look at herself in one of the mirrors, she posed like a model. "I like it," she said finally, after admiring herself for a few seconds.

But Madam Malkin wasn't done yet. She grabbed a pointy hat from a nearby hat stand and placed it on top of Winter's head. "There, you look lovely! Now for the cloak…"

Winter sagged down as a heavy cloak with silver fastenings was dropped onto her shoulders.

"That should keep you warm in the cold months," Madam Malkin finally stepped back from the girl, satisfied at last.

After Dumbledore paid for the three work robes that were required for Hogwarts, the winter cloak, a pair of dragon skin gloves, and the signature pointy hat, they left the robe shop, waving good-bye to Madam Malkin and going back into the crowded street.

The next store down was an owl emporium which Winter skipped. She had no intentions on getting another animal. Huntington was enough to make her happy.

Next was Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment where Dumbledore bought Winter a shiny silver telescope. Then they arrived at Slug and Jiggers Apothecary and purchased the set of brass scales and the set of vials that were required according to the Hogwarts supply list. In these two shops, Winter saw many wizarding families and their children buying things for school.

It was 1:00 p.m. by the time they got to the end of Diagon Alley. After a quick lunch at a café, Winter excitedly skipped up to the doorsteps of the narrow, shabby Ollivanders wand store, eager to purchase her first wand, while Dumbledore decided to stay outside with Huntington as to not interfere with the wand choosing process.

Upon entering Ollivanders, Winter saw stacks and stacks of flat narrow boxes.

A pale eyed man with white hair was bent over the counter at the back of the shop.

Winter approached him with a bright smile on her face. "Hello, Mr. Ollivander."

Mr. Ollivander's silver eyes lit up at the sight of the girl. "Winter? You haven't come visit me in such a long time, I was sure you've forgotten about me."

"How could I forget you, Mr. Ollivander?" said Winter, kindly. "You are considered the best wandmaker in the world."

"Yes, yes," Ollivander said, not sounding like he cared about his title. "How may I help you today?"

"I need a wand," Winter replied. Her eyes roamed across the store at all the narrow boxes that lined the shelves. "I'm going to Hogwarts this year, sir. Please help me find a wand that can bring out my full potential."

Ollivander nodded before pulling out an enchanted tape measure. The tape measure floated toward Winter and began measuring strange things, the distance between her nostrils, the length of her earlobes, the width of her fingernails, etc.

Winter held still as the measuring tape did its work even though the girl had no idea why it was necessary.

When the tape was finished, Ollivander took a dozen boxes off of a shelf and brought them to the counter. He motioned for Winter to come closer.

The girl stepped toward the boxes to get a better look at them.

Ollivander opened one of the boxes. A short shiny wand lay inside, and the sunlight from an adjacent window made the wood gleam. The wandmaker gingerly took the wand from its box and handed it to Winter, "Elm wood, 10 ½ inches, dragon heartstring core."

Winter took the handle of the wand and stared at the beautiful wood, impressed by the amazing craftsmanship. She pointed the wand at a crumpled up piece of parchment and muttered, "_Accio!_"

Nothing happened.

Winter frowned at the wand, a bit disappointed. She handed it back to Ollivander.

"Don't lose hope, Winter," Ollivander handed her another wand. "I have thousands of wands in the back. Surely one of them would choose you." This did not make Winter feel any better. "This one is made of holly, exactly 12 inches, unicorn hair core."

Winter pointed the wand at herself. "_Ascendio!_"

At once, she felt herself being lifted into the air by the spell, but the magic was feeble and she only managed to float four inches off the ground for eleven seconds before dropping back down.

Ollivander shook his head and took that wand back too. The next wand was very long, exactly 16 inches. It was made from rosewood and contained a troll whisker core.

Winter could tell that this wand would not work from the moment it touched her hand. It was too heavy, and she could not get a good grip on the handle.

The fourth wand was pear wood, 11 ¾ inches long, with a core of unicorn hair. It responded to Winter's spells but still wasn't strong enough to affect anything significantly.

One by one Ollivander and Winter tried each wand on the shelves and finally came to a 13 ¾ inch made of rowan wood with kelpie hair as its core.

When Winter half-heartedly waved the wand and murmured, "_Evanesce_…" her target, the parchment, vanished into thin air with no trouble. The girl's eyes widened in disbelief as she realized that her spells were actually doing something worth noting.

Ollivander nodded thoughtfully at this progress. "Interesting… That is a strange wand, you see," he took the wand and examined it again. "Do you know what a kelpie is, Winter?"

"A kelpie is a shape-shifting water demon, sir," Winter replied after needing to think about it for a few seconds. "It usually takes the form of a horse. It lures people onto its back and carries them to sea, drowning them."

Ollivander turned the wand in his hand. "Kelpie hair is not a common core for wands. In fact it is considered inferior when compared to phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, and unicorn hair." The wandmaker's eyes flicked up to see Winter's reaction to this, but the girl's expression was neutral.

"But of course, that has nothing to do with the wizard using the wand," he continued casually. "A wand only helps to channel an individual's powers and release it in a way that is controlled. Kelpie hair wands have thrown wizards into sheer frustration and even madness as they, the wand, require much more magical talent from the wizard himself. I've met people who believe that they can do magic just by holding a wand. No, that is not the case. Like I said before, a wand only _channels_ the magic; it doesn't _give_ the user magic.

"This wand has chosen you, Winter. It requires a patient soul, a kind heart, and an innocent mind, just as a kelpie would want its rider to be," He placed the wand in Winter's hand. "You are not being forced to take this wand. If it doesn't fit your liking, we can always dig around in the back for some more."

"But…" Winter stared at the wand. It was very straight and shiny and silver bands separating the beautifully carved handle from the actual wand. "When a wand chooses a wizard, it is almost guaranteed that they would work the best together." She decided, without much thought, that she would take the kelpie hair wand.

"I'll take it," Winter announced. She picked a Galleon from her money pouch and handed it to Ollivander.

Ollivander took the gold coin and nodded with satisfaction. "Come visit me again sometime, Winter. I'd like to know how that wand is working out for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander!" Winter waved good-bye to the old wandmaker. She then exited the shop and ran to where Dumbledore and Huntington were waiting for her. "Professooooooor!"

Dumbledore looked down at her curiously. "There you are, Winter. What kind of wand did Mr. Ollivander sell you?"

Winter pulled out her wand and held it out to the Headmaster for examination. "It's made from rowan, sir, 13 ¾ inches long, and kelpie hair core."

Dumbledore stroke his long silver beard thoughtfully. "Very interesting… Did Mr. Ollivander tell you about rowan wood?"

Winter furrowed her elegant eyebrows in confusion. "No, sir. What about rowan wood?"

"Mr. Ollivander can remember every wand he ever sold," Dumbledore answered with a smile. "He once told me that rowan wands choose pure-hearted wizards, wizards that are not associated with the Dark Arts. When Voldemort," – he said the name quietly so that people passing by wouldn't hear – "gathered his followers, the Death Eaters, not one of them used a rowan wand."

Winter beamed. "That means that I am a good person, then. Isn't that right, Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore placed a hand on Winter's shoulder, they began backtracking up Diagon Alley. "That is for you to decide, my girl."

As the trio walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, they passed Quality Quidditch Supplies which was packed with athletic-looking boys trying on Keeper gloves and swatting around Beater clubs.

Winter rolled her eyes at this. Quidditch is too unpleasantly violent, she thought. It turned Houses against each other and formed dangerous rivalries which always led to one student drawing his wand on another. And the next thing Winter knows, the hospital wing is packed with people.

It's not that she doesn't like competition. Winter enjoyed competing once in a while, but not in the way that requires you to harm the opposing team, not by trying to hitting other players by smacking Bludgers at them, not by slamming into each other to obtain the Quaffle, and not by knocking another Seeker off his broom so you can get the Snitch first.

There are too many ways to cheat in Quidditch, Winter thought. It's literally impossible to watch a fair game, especially when Slytherin and Gryffindor are playing together. They consider each other rivals, and Winter always sees some form of injustice that had gone unnoticed by Madam Hooch, the referee, when they are both on the pitch.

At last, Winter, Dumbledore, and Huntington made it back to the brick wall that would allow them to enter the Leaky Cauldron again. Just before leaving Diagon Alley, Winter bought two pewter cauldrons form Potage's Cauldron Shop and a bag of milk bone treats for Huntington at Magical Menageries.

The time was 3:00 p.m. when they were able to Apparate back to Hogwarts with their many shopping bags and boxes that held their Diagon Alley purchases.

Once back in the Headmaster's office, Winter thanked Dumbledore sincerely for chaperoning the trip and spending so much money on her.

Then she took all of her supplies and stumbled back up to her room, dragging the bags behind her. Huntington had volunteered to carry a small box in its mouth and a large package attached to his tail.

The two dropped their load onto the floor of Winter's chamber. The girl threw herself onto her bed and pulled her new wand out of one of the bags. "_Lumos!_"

The tip of the wand lit up like with a dazzling silver light.

Winter smiled fondly at the bright spark and waved it around, watching the light leave a trail of glitter.


	4. A Letter to Harry Potter

*Chapter Three: A Letter to Harry Potter*

Winter was very happy the next day. Although she was nowhere near the age in which she would be free to do magic without adult supervision, she had a lot of fun simply waving the wand around.

The skinny piece of wood seemed to know exactly what Winter wanted in order to be entertained. It spewed rainbow glitter, conjured tiny bubbles, and made the sun shine brighter; just about all the things the girl liked. It even made itself smell like steak to tease Huntington.

The next morning, Winter dressed in her new robes and went to the Great Hall to get herself a plate of breakfast. After so many years of living at Hogwarts and watching the students wearing their uniforms, she felt a great swell contentment as she herself wore the Hogwarts robes and waltzed around the school.

She proudly strutted into the Great Hall, holding her head high as she grabbed a golden plate and scooped a spoonful of eggs onto it. Next were the bacon and the toast with a couple slices of butter. "Good Morning, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall," she greeted the only other persons in the Hall.

"Good morning, Winter," Flitwick said replied as he always did when the girl greeted him.

"Winter," said the other simply.

Winter lost a large amount of her cheeriness when McGonagall didn't say anything else. She knew that the Transfiguration teacher didn't like her for some reason that the girl couldn't figure out. Placing an extra piece of bacon on her plate for Huntington, Winter nodded politely to both of the teachers before heading back up to her room in disappointment.

Huntington's ears pricked up when he saw his mistress return with a plate of food. When Winter tossed a bacon to him, the wolf eagerly swallowed it without even chewing.

Winter set the breakfast plate on her desk and picked up _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _which was packing in the enchanted book bag she bought at Diagon Alley. Flipping to the first chapter, she began reading. Perhaps being good at Transfiguration would make McGonagall like her better, Winter thought hopefully.

Not even two minutes passed before she slammed the thick book shut.

Reading about how to do magic was one of Winter's least favorite things. It made her frustrated when she learns exactly how to cast a spell, but she can't try it to see if it actually works. _Why can't the school year start sooner? _Winter thought. Doing some math in her head, she counted twelve more days until September 1st.

It really wasn't that long, but it seemed like an eternity to an eleven year old girl about to begin magical education. It was almost like an itch that Winter can't scratch until almost another two weeks. Twelve days until she finds out what House the Sorting Hat would put her in, twelve days before sitting in a classroom and listening to a professor teach, twelve days before the famous Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts –.

At that moment, a wonderful and most ingenious idea sprung like a beanstalk into Winter's mind.

Although she knew that Huntington couldn't understand her, the girl still made it necessary to tell the wolf every little detail of her brilliant idea. "Huntington!"

The wolf sat up when he heard his name, cocking his head to one side in curiosity.

Winter clapped her hands together for dramatic affect. "I have decided to write a letter to Harry Potter! That way, we could be friends," she announced. "Professor Dumbledore hasn't sent Harry his Hogwarts letter yet. All I have to do is write my letter and ask the Professor to mail it with the others!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," came an annoyed voice from the far side of the room. It was the magic mirror.

"What?" Winter asked in confusion. "Why not?"

"Don't you know what that would make you look like? A stalker, that's what," the mirror spoke slowly as if talking to a dumb student. "What do you think Harry Potter will think if he received a letter from some stranger in a world that he doesn't even know about?"

"Harry Potter knows about magic… I think…" Winter added hesitantly. "Does he?"

The mirror glared at her, "How should I know?"

"Didn't you emphasize that you're a _magic_ mirror yesterday? Can you not just appear in anything that reflects and spy on whoever you want?" Winter then realized how strange that sounded and she felt her cheeks warm up. "Oh, now I see what you mean…"

The mirror grinned with triumph, "I told you, Winter, I'm always right no matter which way you look at it."

Winter wanted to disagree but couldn't think of a decent argument to counter the mirror's reasoning. "What about fan mail? Famous people get fan mail all the time from people they don't know. Gilderoy Lockhart, for example, gets thousands of fan letters every day, I'm sure," she said, slightly pleased with her comeback.

"Don't make me laugh," sneered the mirror in disgust. "Gilderoy Lockhart is a phony, a dirty little sneak. He says he did all those outrageous things he wrote in his books, but I, the _magic_ mirror, know better. If you ever meet him, tell him that I know he's a rat."

"I'm not going to say that!" cried Winter in disbelief. "Do you know how horrible it is to call someone a phony? How would you feel if I told everyone that my magic mirror isn't magic after all?"

Said mirror rolled her eyes, "I know you wouldn't do that, Winter. You've never lied about anything and you never will," Winter looked like she was going to object, but the mirror continued without missing a beat. "Remember when Dumbledore couldn't find his quill because you took it without getting his permission first? He didn't even _ask_ you about it, and you still confessed in less than ten minutes."

Winter hid her burning face. She remembered that. "I was four years old! As a matter of fact, you were a lot nicer back then than you are now," she stood up as calmly as she could. "I'm going to write that letter to Harry Potter, and when he kindly replies back to me, I'll be able to prove you wrong."

"Suit yourself…" Winter's reflection in the mirror faded.

Taking a deep breath, the girl finished her breakfast which was now cold. Then she set the plate aside and took out a nice roll of parchment, a quill, and a little glass bottle full of black squid ink.

She tapped her chin with the top of her quill, thinking about what she could write in a letter to the almighty Harry Potter. Winter began writing the first line but scrapped it, deciding that it didn't sound good enough. She tried again but started over once more.

What would a girl like Winter say to the Boy Who Lived? Well, Winter thought, if Harry doesn't know about magic, it would be best to try and explain it to him in detail and as mildly as possible. So that is what she did.

_Dear Harry,_

_My name is Winter. My grandfather is the Headmaster of Hogwarts. I thought it would be nice to explain to you about the magical world before others begin feeding you bad information. _

_To begin with, Headmaster Dumbledore is very determined to have you attend Hogwarts. If for some reason the Muggles you live with don't allow you to come, our gamekeeper Hagrid will come to fetch you. He is very big and tall with a bushy beard. Don't be too surprised when he shows up at your door. Please treat him kindly, Hagrid is a good man but is quite sensitive. _

_He would most likely take you to Diagon Alley. That's a magical shopping street. If you have any Muggle money, bring it to Diagon Alley. You will need to trade currencies at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. It's a beautiful white building at the end of the Alley. Hagrid will help you buy all the supplies you'll need for Hogwarts._

_On September 1__st__, go to Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross Station in London. It's a bit tricky getting to Platform 9 ¾, but I'm sure you can figure it out __._

_That is all I can tell you for now. You are quite famous in the wizarding world, you know. I really hope we can become friends. Feel free to write back to me. The owl knows where I am._

_-Winter_

After reading the letter over a few times, Winter felt that it was good enough. She made her way down to Dumbledore's office to give him the letter.

Strangely, the Professor wasn't there.

Winter then noticed the pile of envelopes that sat in one corner of Dumbledore's desk. One of the envelopes was addressed in the Headmaster's curly handwriting: Mr. H. Potter/ The Cupboard Under the Stairs/ 4, Privet Drive/ Little Whinging/ Surrey.

Not knowing what else to do, Winter tucked her letter into Harry's envelope and left it there.

The next morning, Dumbledore sent off all the letters.

Winter watched from her room as dozens of owls were released from the Hogwarts Owlery and flew in all directions. Some soared to the south and others to the west, all of them carrying a parchment envelope sealed with the stamp of the Headmaster.

Winter had no idea where Harry Potter lived, but she knew that one of the owls will go to him, carrying her letter of advice and request of friendship.

However, what Winter didn't know was that her supposedly helpful letter would cause much panic and terror in the house of the Dursleys where Harry lived in a cupboard under the staircase.

Two days after the owls were sent away, Petunia Dursley screamed bloody murder when she read Winter's letter followed by the rest of the documents Dumbledore had enclosed.

Meanwhile at Hogwarts, Winter happily wrote in her diary about her day, completely unaware of the dread she had placed on the Dursleys by sending that innocent little letter.


	5. The Sorting Ceremony

*Chapter Four: The Sorting Ceremony*

To say that Winter was nervous would be an understatement. The girl had woken up on September 1st at 5:00 in the morning with pixies in her pants. The sun was just rising up over the horizon, casting a red-orange glow into her room.

Realizing, after a long dull moment, that it was _the_ day, Winter scrambled out of bed and ran to her calendar to look at the cell that was labeled _1__st _which she had doodled and written notes all over.

After confirming that it was indeed the first day of her Hogwarts magical education, Winter let out a very girly squeal of delight, waking up an agitated Huntington from his sleep.

Winter danced her way to her wardrobe and changed into a beautiful white dress that she usually wore when she sat beside Dumbledore at the Head Table in the Great Hall to watch the Sorting Ceremony. She had fun twirling around in it like a ballerina for a few minutes before remembering something.

She would not be sitting beside the Headmaster this year, Winter realized. She would be standing in line in front of Professor McGonagall as the Transfiguration teacher calls out each first year's name so that they could be sorted into their respective Houses.

Winter looked down at her pretty dress sadly, knowing that she would not wear it again. Sighing, the girl reluctantly took off the garment and replaced it with something not as flashy; a white shirt with an intelligent-looking, black pencil skirt. Then she threw on one of the plain black work robes from Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

She looked at herself in the magic mirror. The mirror made no comment which Winter was thankful for.

Afterwards, she spent much time brushing her curly charcoal black hair and tying them into two cute piggy-tails that cascaded over her shoulders.

By 8:00 a.m. Winter had gone down to breakfast, and by 8:30 she had finished and begun packing up her necessities into a large trunk in order to move them to whatever dormitory she would be assigned to tonight.

After that, she aimlessly wandered around the school, searching for things to do that would make time go faster. Snape assigned her the job of recording all of the ingredients he had in his Potions classroom, the quantity of each, and exactly where each one was found on the shelves. It was painfully boring, and Winter began wondering if the Potions Master was simply giving her this task simply as a way to break her bright and cheery personality.

Nonetheless, Winter is a good girl. She politely finished her job for Snape and got out of the room as quickly as possible before the professor could assign her another.

As she came up the stairs from the dungeons, the girl noticed Professor Trelawney roaming around in her usual misty and confused manner. Winter truly worried about the Divination teacher sometimes. _I swear,_ she thought with concern,_ someday her classroom will catch on fire while she's teaching, and she wouldn't notice a thing._

"Professor Trelawney?" Winter tried to assist. "Are you lost? Would you like me to help you find your classroom again?"

Trelawney stared at Winter through her large glasses that magnified her eyes to ten times their normal size. "Oh hello, Winter, dear… You haven't seen my tea leaves, have you?"

Winter swallowed, feeling a bit paranoid. She had drunk a cup of tea that morning. "Why can't you just get some from the kitchen? I'm sure that house elves wouldn't mind you taking a pinch or too."

Trelawney shook her head, "No, no, no, the tea leaves used in tea leaf reading must be very specific," she lectured. "You'll understand when you take Divination in third year, Winter."

Winter wasn't sure she was planning on taking Trelawney's class _ever_. She imagined that Divination would be very difficult if "one does not have the Inner Eye" as Professor Trelawney herself had quoted. "I'm sorry, Professor," Winter said finally. "I do not know where your tea leaves are."

The Divination teacher looked at her in confusion for a very long time. "Ooh… Alright, I suppose I'd better keep looking…" she began making her way down to the dungeons.

Winter hoped that Trelawney wouldn't bother Snape. The Potions master appeared to be in a sour mood about the first day of the school year. Winter suspected that it was because of Harry Potter again. _What if Harry gets sorted to Slytherin?_ Winter smiled at this._ That would be interesting. Professor Snape doesn't seem to like Harry Potter, but if Harry is in his own House…_

Shaking her head, Winter realized how strange it would be to have Harry Potter, the person who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sorted into Slytherin House. Dumbledore told her that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in Slytherin, would that not be odd?

Winter herself doesn't favor or disfavor any of the Houses, not even Slytherin. But she's decided that her most preferred choice would be Ravenclaw. There was something about being in the most intelligent House and living in that spacious common room that Winter loved more than any other.

The girl spent the rest of her day arguing with herself about what House would be the best match for her.

That evening, the moon was very bright and the sun had just set behind the pale horizon. Winter looked outside her window so that she could see the scarlet locomotive of the Hogwarts Express pulling to a stop at Hogsmeade Station in the distance. She interestedly observed masses of black, the students in their Hogwarts robes, stepping off the train.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!" Winter could easily identify Hagrid in the crowd. The gamekeeper was herding a timid group of first years down a forest path while all the other students boarded a long line of carriages which would take them to Hogwarts. Winter watched the first years follow Hagrid as they journeyed through the forest to get to the edge of the Black Lake that surrounded Hogwarts.

The students were urged onto the enchanted rowboats that lay on the shore of the lake. Because Winter watched from the high tower that was her room and the sun was almost completely gone, she could not see the first years very well. She leaned out her window as much as she could and squinted at them as their boats began sailing across the Black Lake.

Their mouths could clearly be seen dropping open at the sight of Hogwarts for the first time.

Winter took much pride in seeing the faces of the new students when they get their first glimpse of Hogwarts from their boat. It made feel very happy to have the castle as her home.

It is truly a stunning sight, especially at that time of day. The lanterns and torches that surrounded the outside of the castle had just begun lighting up. The castle itself was beautifully designed and looked very strange with some parts lit by lights and others not. The moon hung in the background dramatically. And all this was reflected in the Black Lake which made the scene more surreal.

Huntington placed his front paws onto the frame of Winter's window, wanting to get a good look at the first years as well, but they had already sailed out of sight.

Winter guessed that they were possibly entering the castle now, being led by Professor McGonagall to the room in which they must wait until the Sorting Ceremony. Winter decided that it was time to join them.

She made sure that all of her things were packed into her trunk; her school supplies, clothes, wand, and other necessities. Winter knew to leave her things in her room and that they would be automatically teleported to whichever House she was to be sorted into.

Then she and Huntington went down to the room where the first years should have been taken. It was not far from her own chamber, just down the stairs, through the north corridor, second door on her right.

Just as Winter reached the bottom of her tower, she saw Professor McGonagall leading the new students past her, Winter's, door. Winter took this as her chance to blend in with the rest of the boys and girl as they were steered into the waiting room. To her surprise, Huntington followed her.

Winter had expected the wolf to run off to the Great Hall and greet the people that were returning to Hogwarts. For the past few years, Huntington had made friends with a few of the older students, one of them being Oliver Wood. Winter used to have a schoolgirl crush on him when she was eight. Now that she thought about it, it_ was_ embarrassing to like a boy who was almost five years older than herself.

"I remember you!" Winter jumped when she heard a familiar bossy voice call out. At first she thought that the voice was addressing her, but then realized that it was not. Winter whirled around to see Hermione Granger bent down beside Huntington, rubbing then wolf's furry head and talking to him, "I met you at Flourish & Blotts a few days ago. I've always wanted a dog, too bad Mum is allergic."

Hermione looked up at that moment to see Winter. She arched an eyebrow questioningly at her. "You're the girl from Diagon Alley! Winter, is it?" she realized after a moment. "I didn't see you on the Hogwarts Express or on those rowboats. How did you get here?"

Winter was pleased that Hermione had bothered to remember her name as Winter had bothered to remember Hermione's. "I live here," she replied. "I'm related to Professor Dumbledore."

Hermione frowned at this. "That's strange," she said, trying very hard to recall something. "I just read _Hogwarts: A History_, and it never mentioned Headmaster Dumbledore having any blood relatives besides his brother Alberforth. Who are you parents?"

Winter hesitated. She once asked Dumbledore the same question, but the Headmaster had cleverly danced around the subject and in the end, Winter never got a straight answer. "I-"

"So it's true then," came a snarky voice from the other end of the room. "What they were saying on the train, Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

There were quiet murmurs and squeals from some of the students, "Harry Potter!" one of them being Winter, bouncing up on her toes like a fan girl. She whispered politely as she squeezed through the crowd to get a good look at the boy, "Excuse me, pardon me, move along, let me through…"

At she arrived at a small circle formed by the other first years. In that clearing was a red haired boy with freckles. He was standing beside another lad with untidy black hair and round glasses. And talking to them was a pointy faced boy with hair so blonde that it was almost white. Two other boys with thick builds flanked the blonde like bodyguards.

Winter immediately identified the boy with glasses as Harry Potter. Mainly because he wore a name tag that clearly read _Harry Potter_, but also because his lightning bolt shaped scar was visible behind his hair. Still, Winter was not expecting the Boy Who Lived to look like this.

He was very skinny and small, like he had never had a decent meal in his entire life. His glasses were crooked on his face and though they were repaired by magic, Winter could tell that they were once very broken.

Nonetheless, the girl did not let these small flaws change her opinion about meeting the boy. She quickly scrambled up to Harry, probably interrupting whatever the blonde boy was saying. "Hello, there! It _is _you after all! My name is Winter, and I humbly welcome you to my home," she stuck her hand out to him in invitation.

Harry looked at her for a moment, possibly calculating what kind of person she was. Winter continued to smile and look at him with expectant eyes. "Come on, I don't bite," she urged.

At last, Harry hesitantly shook Winter's hand. "Hi, I'm Harry."

Winter did a cheesy little happy dance in her head. She knew that she was overreacting about something as simple as a hand shake, but she really couldn't have cared less about what other people thought of her. And besides, her fan-girl-like syndromes were only in her mind.

The ginger haired boy next to Harry seemed to be his acquaintance. In that case…

Winter turned to him with a bright smile. "Hello to you, too! I am happy to have you here at Hogwarts as well. Please tell me your name, and perhaps we can be friends."

The boy silently gawked at Winter, his jaw going slack.

Harry nudged him, trying to get the boy to wake up from his trance and respond to Winter's request. "Ron? Are you okay?"

There was a long moment of awkward silence as all the first years and Winter stared intently at the boy, with genuine concern from the latter. Had she said something wrong? What if she offended him? Oh no…

Winter opened her mouth to apologize but at that moment, the boy, Ron was his name, had found his voice. "You smell good…" he breathed dreamily.

A few first years including the pointy faced boy had snickered at the ginger's blank response.

_Eh?_ Winter was taken aback by the sudden and strange words that escaped Ron's mouth. She raised an eyebrow curiously at him. That was very unexpected but… Still, it was a compliment, she decided, and it was very kind of Ron to tell her that.

"Thank you!" Winter slowly regained her posture, a tiny hint of blush on her cheeks. She continued like it was perfectly normal to tell someone that they smelled nice, "That's my shampoo, I think." She paused to lightly sniff one of her piggy-tails. "It's chocolate mint."

Ron seemed to break out of his dream-like state at this. His face visibly turned the color of his hair as he realized what he had just said. "Did I just say that out loud?" he whispered worriedly to Harry. "Why did I say that out loud?!"

Winter did her best to pretend not to hear for the Ron's sake. Eager to change the subject, she them turned to address the blonde boy and his two very big and intimidating cronies. "And you are…?"

She had expected each of them to say their names, but the two buff first years remained silent while the blonde haired boy spoke for them. "This is Crabbe," he tipped his head toward the lad to his right. "And Goyle," he pointed to the boy at his left. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Winter wandered if she was supposed to be impressed by this, judging from the proud way the boy had declared his name. She also found it odd that the boy, Draco, called his two friends by their last names as if they were merely foot soldiers in his army. Deciding to keep this to herself, Winter then politely offered to shake hands. "It was lovely to meet you, Draco."

Draco stared at her outstretched fingers for a moment, looking like he was too good to even touch her.

"It's not very proper to ignore someone's act of kindness, you know, or are you just too macho to come into contact with me?" Winter said in a firm but still patient voice.

Draco rolled his arrogant gray eyes at this murmured something to Goyle before stubbornly refusing to accept the girl's invitation. A few seconds passed and when Winter continued to gaze at him expectantly, he finally gave her hand a quick shake, almost grudgingly.

Winter smiled with satisfaction. Then she reached out to Crabbe and Goyle too.

The two boys didn't move and glared at her, daring the girl to try and force them into the handshake. Their palms also looked sweaty and very insanitary, too. Winter wasn't too fond of this. She slowly and awkwardly retracted her hand away from them, trying very hard not to seem rude. "Uh... Never mind…"

At that moment, Professor McGonagall came into the room, "First years, the Sorting Ceremony is about to begin," she called as everyone grew quiet, eager to hear her instructions. "You will get in two lines and follow me to the Great Hall."

The first years hesitantly shuffled into their two lines. Winter noticed that the person across from her was Ron, who smiled apologetically at her. Winter smiled back to let him know that all was forgiven. She could hear Hermione's voice somewhere in the back, telling a student about what she had read in _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_.

Draco wore a self-satisfied grin and held his head high, like a prince going to his coronation ceremony or something.

Harry Potter stood in front of Ron; he seemed unusually calm about going to his Sorting. Winter thought that he must have a lot of self-control to look this normal while waiting to be Sorted. The girl decided that she must be just as cool and collected as Harry Potter.

She wiped the involuntary grin off her face and replaced it with an expression that matched Harry's; neutral, dignified, and composed. However, her lips kept twitching and Winter was forced to abandon her plan for the sake of not looking like she was having an uncontrollable muscle spasm.

McGonagall then led them out of their waiting room and back into the tricky halls of the castle.

Winter watched Huntington trot out of sight as they all made their way to the Great Hall. The wolf was probably going to the kitchen to sneak some food from the house elves, Winter thought.

It was not long before they, the first years and McGonagall, reached the Great Hall where the large door of the entrance way were slid open to allow them a grand entry.

The four House tables of the Great Hall were now occupied by the many students returning to Hogwarts for another year of magical education. The Hall was lit by thousands of floating candles, drifting around the room. But the ceiling was the most interesting. It seemed as though the Great Hall had no roof at all. One would look up and see the swirling clouds, twinkling stars, and dark night sky.

"It's no real, the ceiling," Hermione could be heard as the first years paraded into the Great Hall. "It's only an enchantment, I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_."

Winter smiled to herself when she heard this. She followed her line of first years to the front of the Hall where the Head Table was. Winter was aware that every pair of eyes in the room was locked on the first years. Seeing Dumbledore sitting up at the center of the Head Table made Winter feel a little better.

In front of the Head Table was a shabby wooden stool with a very old and torn up hat resting on it.

McGonagall motioned for the first years to stop and form a semicircle around the hat. "Now, when I call your name," she waved her wand in the air, and a long roll of parchment appeared in her hand. "You will each come up one out a time, and I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head."

She took her time unrolling the parchment and glancing at the first name on the list. "Hermione Granger."

Winter looked over her shoulder to watch Hermione nervously approaching the Sorting Hat. Her, Hermione's, breath was short as she sat down on the stool, and McGonagall dropping the filthy hat onto her bushy hair.

To the first years' utter shock, the folds of the hat formed a mouth and spoke, "Hmm…," it mused thoughtfully, "Yes, I know… Gryffindor!"

The House Table that stood the farthest to Winter's left, obviously the Gryffindors', erupted with cheers and cat calls as Hermione relaxed, happily took off the Sorting Hat, and joined the rest of her House at their table.

Winter took a deep breath to calm herself. Then she quietly waited for the next name. "Neville Longbottom." McGonagall called.

A chubby and timid boy stumbled as he approached the Sorting Hat.

As the Hat sat on Neville's head, Winter could see that the poor boy was begging to be put into Hufflepuff and not in whichever House the Hat was considering. It appeared that Neville had lost the argument when the Sorting Hat finally bellowed, "Gryffindor!"

More cheers came from the Gryffindor Table. Poor Neville tripped clumsily as he made his way there to join the House that he did not want to be in.

"Hannah Abbot," McGonagall continued.

Another girl stepped out from the crowd of first years. It didn't take long for the Sorting Hat to declare her a "Hufflepuff!"

"Draco Malfoy," the Transfiguration teacher read from her list.

Draco haughtily strutted to the stool and sat down. The Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before shouting, "Slytherin!"

Winter could tell that the boy was very happy about his House selection by the way he smirked as he hurried off to join the other Slytherins.

"Ronald Weasley," was next. His face showed the sheer panic that ran through his head. He forced himself to get to the Sorting Hat and shakily awaited the declaration of his House.

They, Ron and the Hat, appeared to have had a conversation before the Hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Ron flushed with relief, happy to be anywhere besides Slytherin House.

"Winter Dumbledore," McGonagall called.

There was a hushed silence. People began standing up to get a better look at what House the Headmaster's own granddaughter would be in.

Winter's smile immediately faded when she heard her name. She knew that everyone was waiting, so she slowly edged though the crowd of fellow first years, doing her best to look normal as she walked up to the Sorting Hat.

Dumbledore was watching her with much interest and amusement.

Winter sat down in her chair and held her breath while McGonagall placed the Hat on her head.

"Ooh, the Headmaster's girl, eh?" the Sorting Hat whispered in her ear. "This should be interesting… Hmm…"

"Ravenclaw, please?" Winter politely suggested. "I would very much appreciate it, Mr. Sorting Hat, if you would put me in Ravenclaw."

"Oh, no, no, no!" the Hat murmured and if the Hat had a head, Winter was sure it would be shaking it. "Ravenclaw would be the last House I'd put you in…"

Winter frowned in hurt. She glared up at the Hat. "Hey, are you saying I'm not smart or clever or intelligent?"

"Now I never said that," the Hat replied calmly. "Ravenclaw simply won't be able to help you on your road to greatness, oh no, not nearly as well as… let's say… SLYTHERIN!"

"What? Wait, no!" but before Winter could argue with the Sorting Hat, McGonagall had already taken the thing off of her, and the Slytherin Table was warmly welcoming her to their circle of allies – not friends – _allies_.

"You'll thank me later!" sang the Sorting Hat as Winter reluctantly slid off the stool, walked over to the Slytherin table, making an effort to not look as upset as she felt, and plopped down in a chair across from Draco Malfoy.

_Well, not _all_ hope is lost,_ Winter tried to cheer herself up. _Harry hasn't been sorted yet. Perhaps there is still a chance of being friends with him, even though Hermione and Ron are now out of reach forever…_

"Ravenclaw!" the Sorting Hat bellowed, and a dark haired boy was sorted into Winter's desired House.

Winter was striving very hard to not glare enviously at the Ravenclaw student as he ran off to join the table farthest to the right of the Great Hall.

"Slytherin!"

"Sssssssslytherin!"

And with that, Crabbe and Goyle were put into Winter's house as well. At that point, the girl just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back out. This was a nightmare, she thought, what if she ends up in Slytherin all alone with only Draco and his bodyguard as company?!

Winter struggled to make eye contact with Dumbledore. Perhaps he could help her sort (no pun intended) this all out, but the Headmaster wasn't looking in her direction. He was carefully listening to McGonagall reading the names.

"Harry Potter."

The Hall went silent again, and Winter could feel the pressure in the room as the Hat was put on Harry's head.

The Sorting Hat took a long time talking to Harry and looking inside his head. The boy kept chanting something, but Winter was too far away to hear what it was. She only hoped that the Sorting Hat would put Harry in Slytherin too. That way, she wouldn't be all alone.

Winter yearned that the other Slytherins wouldn't notice as she clasped her hands together under the table, praying to Merlin and all the gods above that Harry Potter would be in her House.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

That did it. Winter's mind went blank. There were deafening cheers from the Gryffindor Table, but she couldn't hear any of it. She was an empty shell.

All of her chances of becoming friends with Harry Potter had just been ripped to shreds and thrown into an inferno of Greek fire. There was absolutely no way a Slytherin and a Gryffindor could even _talk_ to each other without some kind of insult of argument in the conversation, much less become friends.

One by one, the rest of the first years were placed in their respective Houses. Pansy Parkinson ended up in Slytherin as well. And so were Millicent Bulstrode, Theodore Nott, and a few others who seemed happy about the Sorting Hat's choice.

At this point, Professor Dumbledore stood up to say the magic words that made food appear on the golden plates of the House Tables, "Let the feast begin!"

All sorts of dishes and desserts teleported from the kitchens and onto the empty plates in front of the students. There were gasps of pleasant surprise from the first years.

Winter wasn't very hungry and only watched as her Housemates helped themselves to chicken, gravy, bread rolls, pasta, soup, salad, cheese fondue, and ice cream. She practiced some breathing exercises to keep herself from breaking into silent sobs of self-pity. Still, crying wouldn't change anything, Winter knew that much.

Since she's in now Slytherin House for good as McGonagall had taken the Sorting Hat back to Dumbledore's office, she might as well make the best of it. She half-heartedly cut herself a piece of chicken, a buttered roll, mashed potatoes, and a gorge full of brown gravy.

Winter ate silently for a few minutes, listening to Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy (they seemed to get along very well) having a deep conversation about who had filthier blood, a Muggle-born or a half-human.

"Winter," Winter jumped in surprise as Draco invited her into the debate, with the friendliness that he did not show while he was in the waiting room before the Sorting Ceremony. "Who do you think is worse? A mutant creature that is only half human, or a Muggle (he said the word like it was acid on his tongue) who just got lucky to be able to do magic?"

Winter was going to ask Draco to kindly leave her out of this, but Pansy began explaining her reasoning with much enthusiasm.

"Take that Hermione Granger for example," she was saying, wrinkling her nose with distaste at the thought of the bushy haired girl. "She came onto the Hogwarts Express acting like she knew everything there is to know about magic just from reading that book of hers, _Hogwarts: A History_, is it? I _hate_ it when Muggles think that they truly be one of us."

Draco sneered in the direction of the Gryffindor Table where Hermione, Ron, and Harry were eating their dinner with much joy and laughter, almost like they'd known each other since birth. "Look at them, the _Golden_ Trio," he muttered with amusement.

Winter perked up at this, glad that Draco was showing some sort of compassion for the trio of Gryffindors. "Really?" she chirped hopefully.

Draco turned to look at her like she was a lunatic. "It was sarcasm," he said slowly, when the girl stared back at him blankly. "Ever heard of it?"

"Well, yes, I have _heard_ of it," Winter began brightly. But she soon frowned as she realized something. "But… Professor Dumbledore told me that sarcasm isn't a good thing, and that I should avoid getting in the habit of using it."

The other two Slytherins soon processed that Winter was serious. Draco glanced at Pansy, and the girl shrugged at him in confusion. "As I was saying…" the blonde continued hesitantly, deciding to let Winter's misunderstanding be forgiven. "You were right, Pansy, Granger _is_ more obnoxious than other – "

Winter quickly cupped her ears as to not hear the _M_ word come out of Draco's mouth. Winter knew that Professor Dumbledore would've gladly washed her mouth with troll wax if the girl ever happened to repeat the word to him. Even through her hands, however, she heard the horrible term, "_Mudbloods._"

The girl looked up and down the Slytherin Table and found that either nobody cared about Draco using that word or they just pretended not to hear it. Yet, Winter did not want to ruin her chances of having friends to in her House, so she kept her mouth shut as the conversation continued.

"Weasley," Draco said. "He's at least a pure-blood. But have you seen the robes he's wearing? I would bet five Galleons that that idiot, Percy Weasley, wore the same robes during _his_ first year. It's a pity, really," he fed himself a chunk of white cake and swallowed before continuing. "The Weasels could have been a great pure-blood family if they didn't decide to have more children than they can afford."

Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle all snickered at this. Winter had forgotten that Draco's bodyguards were still there. The last time she'd watched them, the pair were having difficulties holding the table's tiny silverware in their oversized, clumsy hands.

"What about Harry Potter?" Pansy asked with interest. "What happened when you offered your hand of friendship to him?"

Draco snorted. "Potter wanted to go around making friends with the Weasel more than me. Would you believe it?" he asked incredulously. "I hope he doesn't think he's better than anyone else in Hogwarts just because he's the _Boy Who Lived_." The last three words were declared as a mockery.

Winter almost smiled at the irony of that last phrase coming out of Draco as it is _he_ who seemed to expect special treatment just because he's a pure-blood wizard.

After dinner, Professor Dumbledore led the student in the Hogwarts School song in which everyone sang in a different tune and tempo. Winter, not being the best singer, finished quickly before she ends up being the only person left standing. In the end, the Weasley twins Fred and George were the only ones still humming as they continued to sing the Hogwarts song in the tune of a very long and dull funeral march.

Winter noticed Professor Quirrell, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, continuously fixing his fancy purple turban as the song went on. He used to teach Muggle Studies, but Dumbledore had offered him the DADA job for that year.

Winter had been quite fascinated by Quirrell's turban since she first saw it, and Huntington had also seemed very interested in it as well. The professor claimed that an African prince gave it to him as a thank-you gift for getting rid of a band of zombies. Winter wandered if he ever took the thing off for washing as it gave off a foul stench.

Fred and George had finally finished their version of the Hogwarts song.

Dumbledore got up from his seat again to address a few more matters; most of them were Mr. Filch's requests. Afterwards, he waved his hands and what was left of their dinners disappeared, leaving the plates sparkling clean again.

Then they were kindly dismissed to go to their dorms. Winter followed the rest of the Slytherins out of the Great Hall as their prefect (Winter could not remember his name) herded them toward the stairs that led to Slytherin Dungeon, their common room.

Winter looked around for Huntington whom she had not seen in a long time.

But the wolf was nowhere to be found. Winter decided that she shouldn't worry. Huntington always turned up at one point or another. She also noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione heading off to Gryffindor tower as Percy Weasley lectured them about the rules of the dorms and common room.

"Coming?" Pansy called to Winter at the top of the staircase that would lead down to their own dorms.

Winter hurried after her as to not look suspicious.

Of all the time Winter had spent in her lifetime wandering around Hogwarts castle, she had never visited the common rooms of the four Houses. Dumbledore wouldn't allow her for some unknown reason. When Winter and Pansy reached Slytherin Dungeon, it was not as dark and cold as the former had expected.

It had a cool detached look with leather furniture, thin iron bars over the windows, a polished stone floor, and majestic archways all around the room. However, there was also a glimmer of pleasantness as the large fireplace was lit with tall dancing flames, and the large crescent moon could be seen through one of the tall narrow windows.

Two passageways branched off from the main common room which, Winter realized, separated the boys' dormitory from the girls'.

She took the time to wave a friendly good-bye to Draco, (Vincent) Crabbe, and (Gregory) Goyle as they broke away from Pansy and Winter to go to the boys' dorm rooms.

When Winter saw the chamber that was to be her sleeping quarters for the rest of the school year, she was very happy. Of course, she knew that she would have to share with four other Slytherin girls, but the room was strangely spacious even with five beds spread out across it. There was a lamp for each of the room's occupants, but no overhead light as the room was for sleeping only.

Winter took note of her roommates. One was Pansy, which Winter was happy about. The other Slytherin girl obviously didn't like Hermione Granger, but she was still friendly enough to her Housemates.

There was another girl named Millicent whom Winter remembered from the Sorting Ceremony. She was a large and bulky, not unlike a female version of Crabbe or Goyle. Although Winter had never spoken to her, Millicent looked like a decent person.

And another was Daphne Greengrass, who was very pretty in Winter's opinion. The other girl was someone she had never seen before. She was small with glasses a shy, Hufflepuff-like presence (Winter had no idea why the Sorting Hat had put this girl in Slytherin).

The girls each silently chose of bed before beginning to unpack their trunks which had been teleported to the dorm.

Winter threw open her own trunk and picked up her diary, lying on top of the pile of carefully folded clothes. She flipped through the journal for a few seconds to look over her entries which were written in small, neat handwriting. She put the diary down on her bedside table.

"Ooh, look at these," Pansy said as she found the girls' Hogwarts uniforms inside of a large wardrobe at the other end of the room. "They're not at stylish as I would like them, but they'll have to do."

Winter caught a Slytherin green tie with thick silver stripes, a plain white buttoned shirt, a green knitted V-neck jumper, and a pleated skirt as Pansy tossed them to her. She studied the tie with much interest. "I've never worn a tie before…"

As Pansy struggled to find a uniform that would be large enough to not choke Millicent Bulstrode, Winter changed into the white shirt and clumsily adjusted the tie around her neck. She felt professional while wearing something so formal, not to mention that she also had to wear the jumper over the tie when school starts tomorrow, September 2.

After an hour of fooling around in their uniforms, Winter and her roommates began getting ready to sleep. They took turns in the bathroom to shower and put on their nightwear.

Once she was under the dark green covers of her bed, Winter sleepily called to the other girls. "Sweet dreams."

Pansy replied with a "Good night, everyone."

Daphne also called back, "'Night…"

The others did not say anything and simply covered their heads with their quilts.

Winter liked to listen to the sound of the crickets chirping at night which she could hear much more clearly in her Slytherin dorm than she could back in her tower.


	6. The Hogwarts Experience (Part I)

**A/N: Many thanks to greyeyes0 for beta reading this for me! Hopefully the story would be better if I have a Harry Potter expert looking over it before I post the update :)**

* * *

*Chapter Five: The Hogwarts Experience Part I*

_Dear Diary,_

_Last night was the Sorting Ceremony, and I did not get put into Ravenclaw like I had hoped. Instead the Sorting Hat had placed me into Slytherin House. I can't say that I hate it, but I still wish that I was in Ravenclaw._

_It's not as horrible as I had imagined, here in Slytherin. At the Welcoming Feast, I met a couple of other first years who are in my House. Their names are Pansy and Draco. In fact, Pansy is one of my roommates. They don't seem to like Gryffindors or Muggle‐ borns very much, but they are still rather pleasant when they are with fellow Slytherins._

_Harry Potter got placed in Gryffindor House. So did Hermione Granger, a girl I met at Diagon Alley, and Ron Weasley, a rather flattering boy who told me that I smelled nice yesterday. Pansy and Draco don't like Hermione very much. They say that she is such a know‐it‐ all and a chatterbox, and that people like her ‐ Muggle‐ borns ‐ shouldn't be allowed to lecture pure‐bloods about The History of Magic. Draco told me this is exactly what Hermione had done on the Hogwarts Express._

_I do not care much whether a witch is Muggle‐born or not, but people have different opinions. I've decided that I should respect Pansy and Draco's and not make any comments about the subject._

_Today is my first day of magical education. 8:00 is when we must get to our first class. Professor Dumbledore told me that class schedules would be delivered in the morning, and mine just came a few minutes ago. It simply appeared on my bedside table. I have not looked at it yet, but I have already memorized all of the required courses for first years. I only hope that Madam Hooch's flying class wouldn't last long. I do not enjoy sitting on a skinny, hard pole of wood for a whole class period. It's simply too uncomfortable. Perhaps I would fly on a Hippogriff or some other creature with fur and feathers to cushion my seating, but not a broomstick._

_It's about time that we go down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I will write more, later._

‐_Winter_

The writer closed her diary and put it away in a little dresser beside her bed. She looked around the dormitory to see that her roommates were awake.

Pansy was sleepily stepping out of the bathrooms after changing into the Hogwarts school uniform, brushing her teeth, and combing her hair. She blinked unfocusedly in Winter's direction. "Good morning."

"Hello," Winter answered brightly. She had cleverly woken up before the other girls in order to avoid the chaotic morning rush in which everyone would fight over the showers and sinks.

Daphne and the quiet girl (Winter still hadn't asked for her name yet) were in line for the bathroom, as Millicent went in after Pansy had finished.

Everyone's movements were slow and zombie‐like.

Winter looked down at her uniform to straighten it up and flick away any fuzz balls or loose strings. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to wear, but it was required for school days.

Winter wasn't sure if she was allowed to go to breakfast without her roommates. She was getting a bit hungry and did not wish to wait for the other girls to walk to Great Hall with her. Who knew how long they'd take in the showers?

As if to answer Winter's silent question, Pansy had touched up the last part of her uniform and shouldered her school bag before saying, "Coming to breakfast, Winter? I doubt they'll finish anytime soon," she nodded toward their roommates still waiting their turn in the bathroom. "If we don't go to the Great Hall quickly, the Gryffindors will have already contaminated the place with their mere presence."

"I'll be there in a minute," Winter grabbed her bag containing all of her textbooks, quickly checked to make sure that everything was in it, and quickly followed Pansy as they left their dormitory behind.

Descending the short staircase that led to the common room, Pansy took out a piece of parchment from her bag. "Have you read your schedule yet? I wanted to see if we have any classes together."

Winter dug around in the pockets of her satchel and produced her own piece of parchment. She and Pansy both leaned in to compare their lists as they walked. "We have Transfiguration together..." Winter muttered after looking between their schedules. "... And Defense Against the Dark Arts... and Potions, as well as Charms."

"Well, that's not too bad," Pansy commented. "At least we have half of our classes with each other. And Draco will surely have a few periods with us. We'll have to see when we find him."

The girls stuffed their schedules away as they entered the Slytherin common room which was rather empty asides from a couple of fourth years and a fifth year.

Two second year males came down from the boy's dormitory. Also hailing from the boy's dorms were Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. The blonde looked like he got a good night's sleep. His bleach blonde hair was slicked back with an unthinkable amount of gel.

The same could not be said about his cronies. Crabbe and Goyle looked like they had wanted to sleep longer, but their master (Draco), had forced them to wake up and accompany him into the common room. Crabbe's chin had traces of drool on it while Goyle had a faraway, sleepy look in his eyes that reminded Winter of Professor Trelawney.

"Draaaaaaco!" Pansy sang and waved for the Slytherin boy to join them.

Though there were not many people to watch his grand entrance, Draco still smirked haughtily as he swaggered across the common room, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.

Winter had a sudden vision of Draco as a smug white peacock parading around the chamber. The girl's lips twitched with amusement, and she coughed into her hands in order to hide her grin. "Good morning, Draco," she greeted politely after forcing herself stop smiling.

Draco stopped in front of them, "Winter, Pansy," he replied pleasantly.

"Hello, Draco," Pansy said, not bothering to acknowledge Crabbe or Goyle. "Winter and I were discussing our schedules. I want to look at yours as well. Let's go up to breakfast, shall we?"

The three Slytherins climbed up the wide staircase that led up from their dungeon common room. Draco seemed to have forgotten about Crabbe and Goyle, leaving them to trail far behind him.

Pansy was looking over the boys' schedule as she walked. "Hmm... We all have Transfiguration together for first period," she said thoughtfully. "... And Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts with Quirrell."

"Do you think that Professor Quirrell is a bit strange?" Winter asked, remembering the teacher from last night.

Draco and Pansy looked at her in question. "How so?" the Slytherin girl asked curiously.

Winter then realized that both of her friends have only known Quirrell since the Welcoming Feast last night. "He's so...timid about the Dark Arts," she began. "I've known him since he was the Muggle Studies teacher last year. How can he possibly teach us how to defend against the Dark Arts if he's scared of them? Not to mention he's terrified of Professor Snape, as well." She paused to let her friends process the information.

Draco wrinkled his nose, repulsed, "There's a class here called Muggle Studies? That better not be a required course," he muttered with agitation. "If so, my father would surely transfer me to Dumstrang."

"Oh, Muggle Studies is not required," Winter replied helpfully. "You can't even take it until 3rd year. And when you do – wait, what am I saying?" the girl realized that she was getting off topic. "That's not the point, Draco! We're talking about Professor Quirrell, not Muggle Studies.

"About his turban," Winter continued hastily. "He never takes it off, even in the summertime. Can you imagine how terribly hot it must be to wear that thing in the middle of June?"

Pansy shook her head, "Draco and I haven't known Quirrell long enough to make a judgment, Winter. We'll have to see for ourselves in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Until then, I'm afraid we can't help you."

Winter sighed as she understood that Pansy had a point. "Right, it's okay. Don't worry about it. I must be going mad, thinking that Professor Quirrell is up to something. He's such a nervous and shy person, you know."

Obviously, Pansy and Draco didn't know, but the two decided to just drop the subject.

They had reached the top of their staircase. The corridors and Hogwarts castle were beginning to fill up with students of all ages. Further down the hall was the entrance that led up Ravenclaw Tower.

Winter's stomach gave a jolt as a large mob of Ravenclaws came out. _All those people... _She thought longingly. _So many students got into Ravenclaw, why couldn't one of them have been me?_ Exhaling in sadness, she tore her eyes away from them and followed her Slytherin friends, keeping close to them as they made their rather long walk toward the Great Hall.

While passing the moving staircases that would guide up to Gryffindor Tower, Winter noticed a few familiar faces from the Welcoming Ceremony. She saw Neville Longbottom nervously coming down from the Gryffindor common room and cowering timidly as older students pushed past him.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron, the Golden Trio, as Draco had referred to them, were nowhere to be found. Either they were still sleeping or they had already at the Great Hall.

As they approached the Hall, Winter again had forgotten that Crabbe and Goyle were still behind them, silently following in Draco's shadow. Winter honestly felt sorry for them. She hoped that they didn't consider themselves friends of the blonde boy. From what Winter has observed, that would only be wishful thinking. Draco didn't seem to talk or interact with them nearly as much as he did with her and Pansy.

What was their purpose while trailing along behind the blonde boy and his real friends? Winter's eyes shifted left and right, as she tried to figure this out. _Do they ever get tired of following Draco when he never even speaks to them? I would feel horribly excluded if I were in their place._

The doors of the Great Hall were open when they arrived. The Hall was not full yet for it was still relatively early. The students at the tables were stuffing their faces with toast, pumpkin juice, eggs, bacon, and different fruits.

Winter, Pansy, and Draco sat at the end of the Slytherin Table, furthest away from the Head Table and closest to the exit. As the Great Hall began filling up, the three Slytherins made small talk as they ate.

At one point, Winter saw Harry and Ron entering the Hall, yawning and rubbing their eyes sleepily. She smiled with gentle amusement as she watched them drowsily stabbing their eggs and drinking their pumpkin juice.

Suddenly, Ron looked up and caught Winter staring at them from across the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Tables.

Winter's immediate reaction would be to look away, but she decided against that. Instead she held his gaze and waved at him friendlily. Perhaps if she was pleasant enough, the Gryffindors and Slytherins wouldn't be such bitter rivals.

From all the way across the Great Hall, Winter could see Ron smiling dreamily with a crimson blush on his freckled face. In his trance, he accidentally spilled a cup of pumpkin juice all over his front side, leaving a large blotch of orange on his jumper.

Winter's eyes widened in shock when she saw this, but Ron didn't even seem to notice the pumpkin juice on his shirt. He sighed with content, waving absent‐ mindedly at the Slytherin girl.

Harry nudged Ron, probably asking the ginger what he was doing smiling like a lunatic at the Slytherin Table.

Feeling that she must have greatly embarrassed the red haired Gryffindor, Winter turned back to her own Housemates, only to find Draco watching her strangely. "What were you doing?" he asked.

"Huh?" the Slytherin girl was confused for a moment at his question. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that the Gryffindors weren't still paying attention to them. "Uh, well... I was..."

Pansy sneered at Ron and Harry before turning back to the conversation. "You don't fancy them, do you? I must say, Winter, you have horrible taste." She shook her head disapprovingly and went back to her plate of buttered toast.

"What? No! No, that's not it," the Winter answered nervously. She hastily began eating her breakfast, doing her best to look innocent. "I don't fancy them, Pansy. But..." she hesitated before continuing. "Would it not be wonderful to be friends with Harry Potter? And Ron seems like a very kind person."

"I'll admit that Potter wouldn't be bad," replied Draco, stressing the Pot syllable in Harry's last name to make it seem like an insult.

A part of Winter was in awe at how effortlessly Draco could twist a word to make it sound offensive. It wasn't a good talent, she thought, but still very impressive.

"It's really a pity that he didn't get sorted into Slytherin," the blonde Slytherin continued. "But the Weasel? You don't want to go around making friends with the wrong sort, Winter. I know you haven't had much contact with other pure‐blood families while being stuck here at Hogwarts every day. You'll soon find that some wizarding families are much better than others. Just compare me and the Weasel, we're living proof."

Winter frowned at Draco, the rich Malfoy heir with his hair neatly slicked back, wearing new robes, and carrying a rather regal aura. Then she glanced at Ron who was trying in vain to wipe the pumpkin juice off of his jumper. The ginger's hair wasn't nearly as neat as Draco's, but it was a lot better that Harry's. His robes were worn and carelessly thrown on, and his aura was most definitely not anywhere near as imperial as the Slytherin's.

With a disappointed chill, Winter realized that Draco was right. The Slytherin boy had a powerful family which could help her if she ever gets in a bind with money or the government. Draco was also taught to have poise and dignity by his high‐class mother and father, which Winter respected over many things.

There's nothing, however, that the Ron or his family could do to help Winter if the girl should ever need assistance. In fact, they would most likely drag her down with them. Like Draco had said, they could barely support their own family of seven (nine including the two eldest sons of Mrs. Weasley who didn't live with their mother anymore). It was truly a bit saddening, Winter thought, but it wouldn't be safe to get friendly with Ron.

She decided that she'd best just keep her nose out of the Gryffindors' business and stay within Draco and Pansy's protective circle.

After breakfast, the trio was forced to separate; Draco went to the greenhouses for Herbology while Winter and Pansy hurried to Charms with Professor Flitwick.

In classroom 2E, there were three long tables, each seating fifteen to twenty people. Stacks of books formed an unstable staircase to the tall teacher's podium at the front of the hall.

Professor Flitwick was a short little man with a bushy white beard and a pair of round glasses. He was the head of Ravenclaw which was one of the reasons why Winter had wanted to be sorted into said house.

Surprising enough, Harry and Ron were also in that class.

As Flitwick called out the names of all the students on his roster, Winter noticed him gasp in delight when he got to "Potter". The little professor let out an excited squeak before toppling off of the stack of textbooks he stood on.

Charms lesson was quite slow and choppy that day since Professor Flitwick was absolutely enchanted to have the Boy‐Who‐Lived sitting in his lecture hall.

The bell rang after almost two hours, ending the class which had slowly turned into a Harry‐Potter Fan Club as most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the room were also fascinated by Harry's lightning bolt scar.

Winter and her Housemates had sat in awkward silence. Someone must have informed them that Gryffindors and Slytherins weren't supposed to get along, Winter suspected. Otherwise, what else would keep them away from Harry Potter? In order to not attract attention among the other snakes, the girl had decided that joining the Harry‐Potter Fan Club wouldn't be a good idea.

Winter followed Pansy to their next class, Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. The classroom was near the large courtyard on the northwestern side of Hogwarts castle.

Draco caught up with them as they made their way there. He didn't look very happy with little specks of dirt on his pale face and formerly clean robes. Having just endured an hour and a half of Herbology, the boy wasn't in a bright mood.

Upon entering McGonagall's room, Winter saw that it had a high ceiling with golden rays of sunlight streaming in through large window slits around the area. There were four rows of three long desks. Each desk had enough space for four students.

McGonagall was sitting at the front of the room behind her writing table, looking a bit displeased that Winter, Pansy, and Draco happened to be the first to get to her class. But she decided not to say anything as the three Slytherins cautiously sat down together at a desk at the very back of the room, far away from the professor.

Winter avoided eye contact with the head of Gryffindor House and calmly slid her copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration out from her book bag, setting it quietly on top of her portion of the desk.

Crabbe and Goyle also entered the room then, and McGonagall gave them a harsh look as they lumbered loudly across the chamber to sit at table that was adjacent to Winter's.

A few other Slytherins came in, talking and smiling with their friends. As soon as they stepped into the room, they quickly lowered their voices at the sight of the Transfiguration teacher. Realizing that they had just entered Gryffindor territory, the Slytherins murmured to each other suspiciously, as they too found a seat far away from the professor's desk.

There were also a couple of poor Hufflepuffs who were greatly outnumbered by the Slytherins and Ravenclaws who had filled up most of the seats by now.

At last, a large mob of Gryffindors arrived, occupying the remaining empty chairs at the front of the room. And again, Harry and Ron showed up accompanied by Hermione this time.

Winter could see the back of Harry and Ron's heads from her seat a couple of rows behind them. And Hermione sat up straight at the front, smiling expectantly at McGonagall.

Winter wondered if the Gryffindors were frightened at all about being so close to the Transfiguration teacher. Frankly, the Slytherin girl was a bit scared of the old (but stern) woman.

"Transfiguration," McGonagall announced, silencing the room with her cross voice. "is some of the most dangerous and complex magic you will learn at Hogwarts." She scanned the students with sharp, alert eyes as if they'd all done something wrong. "I will not tolerate any messing around. Anyone who chooses to behave like a babbling, bumbling baboon will leave and never come back."

Pansy rolled her eyes at McGonagall's choice of words.

"You have been warned," the Transfiguration teacher finished strictly. She then waved her wand at her desk.

The students all leaned forward in awe to see the desk morph smoothly into a hairy, pink pig. At this point, Winter almost regretted sitting in the very back of the room as she did not get a good view of the demonstration before McGonagall turned the pig back into the writing desk.

There were murmurs of great excitement as people began fantasizing about doing what the teacher had done. However, they soon discovered that they were nowhere near that level and that it would be a long time before they could transform furniture into animals.

McGonagall started them out with a very large amount of complex notes. After an hour, Winter's fingers were cramped, and she had taken up over three feet of parchment with her small, neat handwriting.

Then, the professor passes out a single Muggle match to every student, "You will attempt to transform these into needles," she instructed.

All the students pulled out their wands and began their first task.

Winter spent thirty minutes concentrating until her eyes crossed and her ears popped. Pointing her rowan wand at the innocent match for the hundredth time in that lesson, she willed the little piece of wood to morph into a shiny, thin needle.

Nothing happened.

Winter let out a breath of frustration and glowered helplessly at her match. She turned to observe Draco and Pansy's progress.

Neither of her friends has managed to make any change yet. Draco's eyebrows were furrowed in deep focus as he glared down at his target. Winter could tell that Pansy was getting agitated as well when her match did nothing interesting either.

_Would it be too much of a bother to ask Professor McGonagall for help?_ Winter shook her head at this. _No, she already thinks that Professor Dumbledore spoils me. There's no way she would help me even if I asked. _Winter could imagine the Transfiguration teacher's reply, "_Try harder, Winter, Professor Dumbledore won't always be there to spoon‐feed you. It's best that you take care of things on your own from now on._"

Winter bit her bottom lip. As she was about to try again with her objective, there was a loud shriek of surprise at the front of the hall, breaking the silence that had occupied the room before.

Everyone looked up from their matches, all concentration shattering.

Hermione Granger was holding up her newly transfigured needle for all to see.

_How in Merlin's beard...?_ Winter shook her head in disbelief. How did Muggle‐ born Hermione Granger succeed so quickly? If anyone managed it first, it should have been one of the Slytherins like Draco or Pansy who have nothing but magical blood coursing through their veins. Or one of the Ravenclaws who are supposed to be intelligent and have great focus. Or even Winter herself who had observed McGonagall and Dumbledore's magic for almost a decade.

Most students' jaws dropped open a little, including Winter's, at the tiny needle in Hermione's fingers. Draco simply sneered, muttering something about beginner's luck.

McGonagall was very impressed indeed. She took the needle for inspection and showed everyone how the match had turned silver and pointy. Then she gave Hermione a rare smile of approval.

At the end of the class, no one else had yet been able to make any changes to their matches. Hermione skipped out of the room and to the Great Hall with much pride. Seeing that the great, almighty Harry Potter also could not transform a match into a needle made Winter feel a bit better about failing her first task in McGonagall's class.

Lunch was served after Transfiguration which was a good thing as Winter was very hungry after straining every brain cell she had, trying to get that bloody match to do something.

Whilst they ate, the daily mail came in the form of dozens of owls. The Great Hall was filled with the nocturnal birds carrying letters and cards from fellow students and packages of sweets from home.

Winter raised an eyebrow curiously when Draco received a parcel wrapped in expensive silver paper. There were candies of all smells, tastes, brands, and shapes inside the package. Winter guessed that Draco's rich mum and dad must send him things like this every day.

Across the Great Hall, at the Gryffindor table, there was commotion as the boy named Neville also got something special from home.

It was a large glass ball with white smoke inside. "A Remembrall!" Neville exclaimed loud enough so that even some of the Slytherins and Winter turned to get a good look at it. The boy enthusiastically explained to his Housemates about the Remembrall and how useful it was.

At this time, Huntington had finally come to visit Winter again, tearing the girl's attention away from Neville's new toy. The wolf sat himself beside the Slytherin girl and sniffed Draco's sweets with much interest.

Winter fed him a slice of ham to make the wolf leave her friend's package alone. She was happy to see that Huntington had decided to accompany her to her next class which was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Winter felt a swell of annoyance when she saw that Hermione was also in that class, along with Harry and Ron. Huntington looked like he wanted to greet them, but Winter did not allow it.

Most of the first years were really excited about learning how to defend against Dark wizards, but Quirrell's class was, if anything, a joke.

A repulsive stench of garlic hit Winter like a punch in the face as she and her friends arrived at Quirrell's lecture hall. Huntington stubbornly refused to enter the room because of the disgusting odor. Winter and her friends saw the source of the smell very quickly.

Dozens of strings of garlic were hanging from all corners of the chamber. When Winter asked Quirrell what they were for, the professor replied, "Garlic wards off the vampires. They are essential for the well‐being of all Hogwarts students."

Quirrell was extremely jumpy during his lesson. His movements were jerky, like a bird's, and in the end, none of the students in his class learned a thing about how to defend against the Dark Arts.

A wonderful two hours of Winter's life was wasted, sitting in Quirrell's room and listening to him rant about the weather, whilst he was supposed to be telling his students how exactly he defeated those zombies in Africa.

The last class of Winter's day was History of Magic with a ghost called Professor Binns. It was the most boring subject as it had nothing to do with waving wands or casting spells. All the students did was scribble down dates and names, while Binns lectured about Emiticthe the Evil and Uric the Oddball.

At dinner, Winter was very sleepy from History of Magic class, and almost allowed her face to drop into a large bowl of soup‐ but Pansy shook her awake just in time.

She had only gone through half of her classes, Winter reminded herself as she and Pansy went back to their dorm that night. Tomorrow, she would have to go to Flying, Potions, Astronomy, and Herbology.

Whilst her roommates drew their curtains around their beds, Winter kept her lamp on and wrote in her diary.


	7. The Hogwarts Experience (Part II)

*The Hogwarts Experience Part II*

Potions lessons were in the dungeons of Hogwarts castle and taught by His Greasy Highness Professor Snape.

The Potions Master was not Winter's favorite teacher, but she still liked him better than McGonagall. At least he was her Head of House and would favor the Slytherins somewhat.

The next day, Winter, Pansy, and Draco happily went from breakfast to the Potions classroom.

Snape's place was surprisingly clean and well lit for a dungeon. There were small windows near the ceiling where golden sunlight could shine in, but the room was still rather cold. On each of the eight tables that filled the dungeon sat four little cauldrons for potion brewing. The walls were lined with shelves and cupboards which stored ingredients and utensils for crushing, slicing, and dicing them. There were also glass jars of floating animal parts which, Winter swore, was only there to scare the first years.

It seemed that the seating arrangements in Potions were exactly the opposite as the ones in Transfiguration. The Slytherins, feeling comfortable in their own territory, sat up front so that they could listen closely to Snape. The Gryffindors were hesitantly shuffling in the back, far away from the Potions Master.

Huntington trotted around the dungeon for a few minutes, closely investigating all the first years there. At one point, the wolf began pestering Crabbe and Goyle.

The two beefy boys slowly scooted away from the animal, but Huntington moved closer, digging a long snout up Goyle's sleeve aggressively and letting out a low growl from the back of its throat. Goyle jumped away, clumsily sliding off of his chair, slamming into Crabbe, and they both fell to the cold dungeon floor.

Professor Snape had strolled into the room at that moment with his head held high and black cloak flowing behind him. As he walked he glanced down with disgust at Crabbe and Goyle who were lolling at his feet.

The two Slytherins scrambled up from the ground in embarrassment and sat themselves back in their seats as Snape passed.

The Potions Master started the class by taking roll and, like Flitwick, paused when he got to "Potter, Harry".

Winter held her breath as Snape looked up from his register and stared at the back of the room in the direction of the Gryffindor, "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter, our new… celebrity."

Draco snickered at this, and Crabbe and Goyle joined him.

Winter was frightened for a moment that Snape would call out Draco and his friends for laughing, but the Potions teacher said nothing in response to their rude behavior.

Snape finished reading the names and looked up at the class with cold black eyes. "There will be no foolish wand-waving here, and most of you would hardly believe that this is magic. I don't expect any of you to understand the beauty of shimmering fumes or the delicate power of liquids that can creep through human veins, bewitching the mind and dulling the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death." He stopped and glared at a few clueless Hufflepuffs. "That is if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

About ninety percent of the students in the room appeared spooked. The Slytherins sat calmly, looking perfectly normal, while Hermione bounced at the edge of her seat, eager to show what she could do.

There was a long silence, and Winter wandered whether or not Snape was planning on staring the Potion lesson.

"Potter!" Snape snapped suddenly.

Winter, startled by the sudden sound, slowly followed the other Slytherins' examples of turning to stare at the Boy-Who-Lived.

Snape's lips were twisted in a smile of cruel amusement. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

All eyes were on Harry as he and Ron frowned at each other in confusion. "Powdered root of _what_ and infusion of_ what?_" The two murmured hastily to each other, shaking their heads at what the other was saying.

Hermione's hand abruptly shot into the air, waving frantically at Snape.

The Potions Master ignored her and continued to wait for Harry's response.

Winter did not know the answer either. She quietly took out her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions _and flipped to the index, looking for information on root of asphodel and wormwood. She frowned when she saw that the textbook did not say anything about the combination of those particular ingredients. She even looked through _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and could find nothing that would help poor Harry Potter.

Snape's question was obviously higher leveled than anything a first year's textbook had to offer.

_How could Harry possibly know the answer?_ Winter thought._ It's not even in his textbook. _

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle continued to laugh at the green-eyed boy, and Pansy joined in as well.

"I don't know, sir," Harry finally replied.

Snape sneered with disapproval. "Fame clearly isn't everything," he said, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Let's try again, Potter," the professor was obvious not satisfied yet. He spoke slowly this time to mock Harry further. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Winter sat up. This was one of the questions that she knew the answer to. She hesitantly raised her hand in the air.

Harry glanced sideways at Hermione who was desperately trying to get Snape's attention, occasionally making squeaky noises of excitement. Then he looked at Winter as she sat quietly, waiting her turn. Then there was Draco and the other Slytherins shaking with laughter, and Snape did nothing to stop them.

"I don't know, sir," Harry said again.

It seemed that Snape didn't expect Harry to know any of the answers. He was only doing this to humiliate the boy. "Did you bother to open your books before coming, Potter?" When Harry didn't say anything but continued to look straight into the professor's dark eyes, Snape struck again, "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" He paid no attention to Hermione's quivering hand that was waving eagerly in front of his face.

Without even thinking about it, Harry replied, "I don't know. But I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

The Slytherins roared with laughter, and Winter had to smile at that too. However, seeing Snape's very displeased face made the girl wipe the grin away as to not offend the Potions Master.

"For you information, Potter," Snape growled, advancing on the Gryffindors. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful that it is sometimes called the Draught of the Living Death."

Winter didn't even realize that her hand was still in the air when Snape called to her, "Miss Winter, tell me what a bezoar is, _now_."

Winter began talking, her voice squeaky from surprise at the fact that the professor was giving her a chance to answer a question instead of continuing to harass Harry. "A bezoar can save you from most poisons. It's a stone found in the stomach of a goat, I think."

"And as for the wolfsbane and monkshood…" Snape didn't even acknowledge that Winter was correct. "They are the same plant and can also be referred to as aconite," Snape looked around the room at the students' blank faces. "Well? Why aren't you copying this down? I am not going to repeat myself."

At that, everyone scrambled for their quills and parchment. As she finished writing Snape's words on her scroll, Winter heard the professor announce to the class, "And ten points from Gryffindor House for pure cheek, Potter."

Afterwards, Snape set them to work with a simple potion that was used to cure boils. He walked around the room to observe the students' progress and criticized the smallest things. As a result, almost everyone got some sort of negative feedback about their potion.

Winter's hand shook as she weighed a spoon of dried nettles. She knew that Snape favored students from his own House so most likely, he'd leave the girl alone. But that didn't happen; Winter could sense Snape looking over her shoulder like a hawk. Not wanting to be caught doing something wrong, Winter tried to measure her nettles very slowly and dully in an attempt to look like she was getting the amount precise.

Snape seemed to know that she was trying to stall, so he crossed him arms and waited.

Realizing that the professor wasn't going to leave, Winter held her breath as she prepared to dump the nettles into her cauldron.

The thin green plants sank into the potion, turning it acid green.

Winter froze, certain that Snape was going to say that she did something wrong. But the professor simply stared at her potion for a few seconds before slowly commenting, "Carry on…" and moving along to look at Neville Longbottom's cauldron.

It wasn't praise, Winter thought, but it was better than being degraded in front of the whole class.

Continuing with her task, the girl looked over at Pansy and Draco's potions. Theirs were green like her own but in different shades. Pansy's was a sickly olive that you would see on the face of someone who was very ill. Draco's was glowing with brilliant emerald fumes rising from it.

Winter looked around the dungeon to see that some students' cauldrons were pink and others purple-blue. Crabbe and Goyle's were a nasty shade of brown. She let out a sigh of relief after referring to her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and finding that green was the correct color of the solution. It seemed that Draco's potion looked the most like what the book described.

It wasn't much of a surprise when Winter saw that the contents of Hermione's cauldron also matched the textbook exactly. And yet, Snape _still_ found something to gripe about, just because she was a Gryffindor.

Snape definitely treated the students of his own House with more tolerance, but Draco was obviously his favorite. The Potions Master would always praise the Slytherin's progress every time he passed their table. He even used Draco's perfect potion as an example for "lesser" students.

"Do you and Professor Snape have a connection?" Winter asked Draco as they scooped their potions into shiny crystal flasks and began cleaning up the work space.

"Severus and my mum are old friends," Draco had answered proudly. "And he's my godfather."

"Oh," Winter nodded. "That's… nice." She had no idea that Snape was a godfather._ Who in their right mind would ask Professor Snape to be a_ godfather_? _She shuddered at the thought of naming someone like the Potions Master as the godfather of her child.

"Idiot boy!" Snape's harsh shout startled both Winter and Draco.

Their eyes trailed to the back of the room where the Gryffindors sat. Somehow, one of the lions had managed to melt his cauldron into a twisted blob of bronze, and their potion was spilling out onto the stone floor.

People began climbing onto chairs to avoid the acidic liquid that threatened to burn holes in their shoes.

Winter saw that Neville Longbottom was on the floor, drenched in the spilt potion and covered in angry red boils. He cowered in fear as Snape cleaned the mess with a single wave of his wand.

"Take him to the hospital wing," the professor snapped venomously at another Gryffindor whom Winter did not know. He them turned on the students sitting closest to Neville; Harry and Ron. "You, Potter, thought it'd make you look good if he did nothing wrong, did you? That's another ten points from Gryffindor!"

Winter, though she found Snape's point-taking unjust, kept her mouth shut and continued to clean up her things.

Moments later, the students piled out of the dungeon and sped off to whatever class they had next. Winter did a double take when she saw that Flying lessons were coming up. She and Draco separated from Pansy as the other girl did not have the same period as them.

Outside of Hogwarts castle stood the Quidditch pitch. Around the pitch was a large area of flat green land, and that was where Madam Hooch, a lady with short gray hair, was waiting for her students.

It was a sunny day with hardly a single cloud in the sky. Huntington bounded across the field, chasing a rare purple butterfly. About twenty old broomsticks laid on the lush green grass in front of the flying instructor since none of the first years could own one, according to the Hogwarts supply list.

Winter noticed that Draco was smirking confidently as they approached Madam Hooch. "Have you flown before?"

"Of course I have," the blonde Slytherin answered immediately. "I don't see why first years can't have their own brooms. Do you have a broom? Surely Dumbledore would have gotten you one."

Winter shook her head, "I've never asked for one. And if I did, I doubt Professor Dumbledore would approve of one first year having a broom while others don't. It wouldn't be reasonable."

"I suppose you don't play Quidditch, then?"

Winter smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid not."

"I do," Draco boasted. His next line held much arrogance, even for an eleven year old. "Father says it would be a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House. And I must say, I agree."

"Well, Draco," Winter said as they reached Madam Hooch and the rest of her class. "When you get on the Slytherin Quidditch team, perhaps I will come out to watch your games."

Suddenly, Madam Hooch blew on her whistle loudly, silencing all conversations that were going on. "Good day, class," she said, pacing back and forth in front of them.

"Good day, Madam Hooch," Winter frowned when she was the only one who bothered to return the salutation. She glanced at the other students in disappointment. _How rude! Students aren't supposed to ignore professors._

But Madam Hooch did not seem offended at all. "Welcome to your first flying lesson. Now, what are you all waiting for? Everyone step to the left side of a broom stick."

Huntington lay down in front of the class, watching them with sharp yellow eyes as if to say "_This ought to be good…"_

The students obeyed Hooch, each claiming a broom and standing on the left side of it.

Winter looked down at hers. It was a school broom, like everyone else's and very old. It didn't look safe at all with a splintering handle and a sweep that was flattened at a strange angle. Winter gulped and tried not to think about what would happen if the handle snapped in two.

"Everyone stick out your right hand over your broom and say _'Up!'"_ Madam Hooch barked like an army officer.

Choruses of "Up!"s echoed off the stone walls of Hogwarts castle which loomed behind the first years.

"Up!" Winter said quietly, not wanting to ride this dangerous piece of wood.

The broom twitched ridiculously but didn't fly into her hand like it was supposed to.

"Up! Up!" On the third try, the broom shot up from the ground and into Winter's outstretched hand. The girl smiled with approval at herself.

Some people got their brooms to respond on their first try. Others were still shouting, "Up! Up! Up!"

At last, everyone got their brooms awake and into their hands. Hooch then showed each student how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and corrected their grips.

As she came down Winter's row, Madam Hooch adjusted Draco's grip on the broom, telling him that he's been doing it wrong for years.

At this, a couple of Gryffindors, Harry and Ron to be exact, sniggered quietly.

Winter knew that Draco had laughed at Harry in Potions, so Harry should have every right to laugh at Draco in Flying class. Still, a part of Winter was angry at the Gryffindors. She shot them a disgusted look, which made them quickly turn away.

But Winter could tell that they were still laughing.

"When I blow my whistle," Hooch commanded, after fixing everyone's position. "You will kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, and hover for a few seconds before coming back down by leaning forward slightly. On my mark, three… two…"

Winter couldn't believe that they were going to be in the air so soon. _What about safety precautions? What do you do the case of a malfunctioning broom? We've only been in this class for left than fifteen minutes, how does she expect us to catch on so quickly!?_

Thankfully, Winter soon found that she would not be flying that day. Just before Hooch reached the end of her countdown, one student began rising into the air at an incredible speed.

"Mr. Longbottom!" Hooch cried.

It was Neville. He had shown up after paying a visit to the hospital wing to get rid of those painful boils from Potions class. The poor boy was whimpering in fear as he lost control of his broom.

Huntington jumped up at the sudden commotion. The wolf raced toward Neville and bit down on the ends of his robes, trying to keep the Gryffindor from flying away. Unfortunately, the robe ripped after a couple of seconds, but Winter appreciated Huntington's noble effort.

"Mr. Longbottom!" Hooch gave a sharp tweet on her whistle as if that would help the situation. "Come down this instant!"

"Help! Help!" Neville squeaked as his broom carried him higher and out of reach.

The students were in frenzy. They were all looking up, watching Neville shoot like a cork toward the sky. Some were laughing at the expression of pure horror on the Gryffindor's face while others were worried. There were even a few that looked impressed.

Winter gasped as Neville slid off of his broom and plummeted back down to the ground. She winced upon hearing a nasty _snap_ that sounded like bones breaking as the boy landed with a loud_ thump._

Students swarmed the injured boy while Madam Hooch shoved through the crowd. "Let me through!" She crouched down beside Neville, both their faces white. "Oh dear… it's a broken wrist. Poor boy…" She helped him up from the grass and glared threateningly at the rest of the class. "Everyone is to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. If I see a single broom in the air, the rider will be tossed out of Hogwarts before they can say 'Quidditch'. Am I understood?"

And with that, she left twenty inexperienced first years by themselves with a similar number of functioning broomsticks.

As soon as Neville and Hooch were out of sight, Draco burst into laughter.

Winter frowned at him in confusion. "What is funny?"

"Did you see the look on his face?" Draco bent down and picked up something from the ground.

It was Neville's Remembrall. It must have fallen out of his pocket while he tumbled off the broom. Draco casually tossed the glass sphere into the air and caught it again. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's Gran sent him!"

A couple of Slytherins laughed.

"Shut up, Malfoy," a dark haired girl snapped at them. Winter recalled from the Sorting Ceremony that her name was Parvati Patil.

This only made the Slytherins cackle louder. Winter glanced uncertainly between her Housemates and the Gryffindors. Perhaps Draco _was_ acting a bit rash…

The blonde Slytherin paid no attention to Parvati's words. "If the Longbottom had given this a squeeze," he continued gleefully, addressing the Remembrall. "he would've remembered to fall on his fat arse!"

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry ordered, stepping toward Draco. He didn't look scared, holding his hand out for the Remembrall. His tone was clear and challenging.

Frankly, Winter was hoping that her friend would give up the Remembrall. That would avoid a whole lot of misfortune events. But seeing the amused smile across Draco's lips, she knew that wouldn't be the case.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," the Slytherin mounted his broom and prepared to fly away. "How about… the roof?"

Winter ran forward, grabbing her friend's robe sleeve, "Draco, don't! What if Madam Hooch comes back? You'll be in big trouble. And you don't know how long these brooms have been sitting in the cellar. They might not be safe for riding."

Draco carelessly waved her concerns away and glided smoothly into the air, jerking his sleeve out of Winter's reach. Still tossing the Remembrall up and down, he called down to Harry, "What's the matter, Potter?" Draco taunted. "Bit beyond your reach?"

Without a second's hesitation, Harry angrily mounted his broomstick to pursue the Slytherin.

He could fly surprisingly well for someone who had absolutely no experience whatsoever. Harry and Draco hovered in the air, having a hostile exchange of words.

Winter couldn't hear them clearly from where she stood, but she caught a phrase about "knocking someone off their broom".

Then, Draco threw the Remembrall as hard as he could toward the clear blue sky. And as Harry shot after it, the Slytherin quickly flew back to the class, looking like his feet never left the ground.

And just in time, as well. McGonagall had arrived at the scene at that moment to see Draco looking perfectly innocent while Harry rode his broom through the air at dangerous speeds.

"_Harry Potter!_" she shouted so loudly, that Winter flinched.

Harry, having miraculously caught the Remembrall without damaging it, hung his head in shame as he sank back to the grassy field.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Winter saw a triumphant smirk on Draco's face. That's when she understood how clever her friend was. He wanted to get the Gryffindor into trouble, and he succeeded by using Harry's own noble recklessness against him.

"Follow me, Potter," McGonagall fumed as she led Harry back into Hogwarts castle.

Once they were gone, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all cracked up with laughter at their ingeniousness and Harry's stupidity.

By the time Madam Hooch came back from the hospital wing, it was already time for lunch.

At the Great Hall, Winter ate in silence as Draco delightedly told Pansy the whole story about what happened with Flying class.

"You should have seen McGonagall's face when she caught him," the Slytherin said with a self-satisfied smirk. "I reckon Potter should be packing his trunk, heading back to London by now."

Pansy was listening with much interest.

"Would you believe that Longbottom's been to the hospital wing _twice_ since he arrived at Hogwarts two days ago?" Draco and Pansy snickered quietly.

Winter tried to look invisible and innocently picked at her salad. She stared at her food and listened to her friends' maniacal laughs for a couple of minutes. Then, the giggles were suddenly cut off abruptly. Winter glanced up at Draco and Pansy, "What's wrong…?"

The Slytherins were staring at something behind her back.

Winter spun around rapidly to see what had attracted her friends' attention so effectively.

A very pleased Harry Potter had waltzed into the Great Hall and sat down at Gryffindor Table, putting food on his plate casually. Ron said something to him, which Winter could not hear. Harry replied to his friend with a pleasant smile gracing his lips. Then, Ron and the surrounding Gryffindors gasped dramatically at Harry's words.

Winter desperately wanted to know what was happening with the Lions. Her question, however, was almost immediately answered by Millicent Bulstrode, who had just arrived at the Slytherin Table.

Pansy and Draco looked just as astonished as she, Winter, was. The three of them leaned in close together to hear what Millicent had to say.

"You won't believe this!" Millicent shrieked. "Harry Potter just got accepted onto the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He's the Seeker! I heard Oliver Wood telling his classmates on my way here!"

"But how?" Winter asked, remembering the look of alarm that had been on the Transfiguration teacher's face. "Professor McGonagall was furious! She looked like she was going to drag Harry to Professor Dumbledore's office and get him kicked out of Hogwarts. How can he be on the _Quidditch_ team now?"

Millicent rolled her eyes, "Did you see how he caught that Remembrall? McGonagall was impressed, obviously."

Now that Winter thought about it, the Transfiguration teacher didn't exactly look mad about Harry flying; she looked stunned, in disbelief. Winter worriedly gazed at Draco, whose plan to expel Harry had brutally backfired. "Draco…" she was truly a bit scared that the blonde would be angry enough to take it out on the people around him.

However, that didn't happen. If Draco was very upset, he did a rather good job of hiding most of it, but Winter could tell that he was jealous, _very_ jealous. Just that morning, he was telling her about how much he wanted to play Quidditch, but first years weren't allowed to join the team. And now, his rival had gotten a spot on the Gryffindor team as a Seeker, the most skilled player on the pitch.

When the Slytherin noticed Winter looking at him with concern, he speedily replaced his angry expression with the usual arrogant smirk.

"What will you do?" Winter asked him, slightly afraid of the answer.

Draco tapped his chin with a silver spoon he was using, looking very thoughtful. Then, he got up from the Slytherin Table and began sauntering over to the Gryffindors, ignoring Winter's question. Crabbe and Goyle immediately got up as well and began shadowing him as if on cue.

"Hey! Where are you going? Draco!" Winter whisper-shouted after him, not wanting to not draw attention to herself. The girl was terrified that her friend and Harry were going to settle their rivalry like real men; with their fists. Winter couldn't let that happen. "You'll get in trouble! Professor McGonagall is sitting right there!" Indeed, the Transfiguration teacher was seated at the Head Table, her calculating eyes following Draco's every move as the Slytherin approached Harry.

Winter leaned toward the Gryffindor Table and strained to hear what was happening, but she wasn't going to risk getting detention for leaving her Table and going to another House's.

"…Tonight, if you want," Draco was saying haughtily to Harry. "Wizard's duel; wands only – no contact. What's the matter, Potter? Never heard of a wizards duel, I suppose?"

Winter's mind rolled down the gutter upon hearing this. _A wizard's duel!? That's even worse than using fists! Is Draco really arrogant enough to challenge Harry Potter to a duel? Well…_ Now that Winter thought about it, neither Harry nor Draco had been at Hogwarts for even a week yet, so neither of them should know any spells that can do any real damage to the other. They'll both be safe, right? The duel will truly be child's play compared to what Dumbledore or McGonagall or Snape could do.

Feeling a bit better after her inner reasoning with herself, Winter relaxed and went back to her salad. Not two seconds later, she heard something else that made her blood run cold.

"Midnight on Friday, all right?" Draco was telling the Harry the time and location of the duel. "We'll meet you in the trophy room; it's always unlocked."

Winter dropped her fork a little more dramatically than necessary. She whipped around to watch Draco smirk with triumph whilst he swaggered back to Slytherin territory, still flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

Resisting the urge to bang her forehead on the side of the table, Winter opened her mouth to object to the duel, but closed it again after a moment's consideration. She saw the confident expression on Draco's pale face and decided that trying to dissuade him would only be a waste of time.

After lunch, Winter headed off to Herbology alone.

Herbology was taught by the head of Hufflepuff, Professor Sprout. Winter liked the teacher very much, but the subject wasn't the most appealing to her. For starters, Winter did not like to get dirty. She preferred to keep as sanitary as possible and would rather not have to play with dirt.

Thankfully, Professor Sprout spent the entire class lecturing about different herbs and plants, and the students were not forced to do any real gardening.

Astronomy was taught on the highest floor of Hogwarts' tallest tower after midnight that day, for the stars were not all visible until then. Winter liked Astronomy very much. She loved how she could see pretty, sparkly, colorful things through the telescopes and how she could imagine giant animals and objects in the sky.

Unsurprisingly, Winter seemed to be the only person in her class who was paying any attention at all to Professor Sinistra's lecture about Europa. Everyone else was either falling asleep and drooling all over their notes or spitting over the edge of the tower and watching the blob of saliva fall to the courtyard below. Some even managed to drop their quills over the railing of the tower. Winter wandered how they could possibly not listen to such a fascinating subject as Astronomy. How could they not stare, wonderstruck, at the beautiful moon and ever moving stars?

She turned and glanced at a Gryffindor boy who sat beside her. The boy snorted in his sleep and shook himself awake for a fraction of a second before falling asleep again.

Winter wrinkled her nose, utterly repulsed by his behavior, but did her best to ignore the disrespectful classmates. It was dark that night, and Sinistra did not see all the students who were slacking in her lesson.

And when the Astronomy teacher dismissed the class, Winter was the first to leave the tower without even trying to exit quickly. Everyone else was just too drowsy and in such a zombie-like state that it took them a good thirty seconds to process that the class was over.

When Winter reached her dorm, her roommates were already asleep as they did not have Astronomy that night. After quietly changing into her sleepwear, the Slytherin girl crawled under her covers, shut the curtains, and pulled out her diary again, using a bright spark from the tip of her wand to cast light over the parchment and quill.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews, please? They make me happy, pwease...? If you've got a problem with this story, tell me in the reviews, as well. And what do you guys think of Winter? Is she healthy or very Mary Sue-ish?Tell me so I'll know what I can do to shape her character development, okay? Good. And many thanks to greyeyes0 for beta-ing this story :)**


	8. Dumbledore's Counselling

*Dumbledore's Counseling*

Before Winter knew it, the first week of Hogwarts had passed. She couldn't say that she was completely unsatisfied with the progress she had made. Although it wasn't much, Winter had finally managed to get McGonagall's match to turn silver. It still wasn't a needle yet, but she was just glad that she wasn't the last person who hadn't made any changes to the match.

In Charms class, Flitwick had finally gotten over Harry Potter's presence and they had learned the charm to levitate an object (_Wingardium Leviosa!)_. It didn't surprise Winter at all when she heard Hermione criticizing Harry and Ron about their "swish and flick" movements. And to make them feel even more degraded, the Gryffindor girl had demonstrated the levitation spell with perfection on an eagle feather whilst everyone else was still struggling with the "swish and flick".

Winter was pleased that she had managed to avoid Snape's harsh disapproval for the first week of school. She also counted a total of thirty House Points taken away from Gryffindor House because of the Potions Master's intense hatred for Harry Potter. Winter was proud to say that she got her House ten Points for being a good girl in Astronomy, but she soon realized that her efforts were nothing compared to a certain blonde friend.

Snape had awarded a grand total of fifty Points to Slytherin all because of Draco's flawless potion brewing on the first week of school. Winter knew that this was partly due to Snape's favoritism, but she felt very small and insignificant with her ten House Points next to the other's fifty.

Winter had convinced herself to not take this too personally. After all, the points were going toward the same House, so she should be happy for Draco for doing so well.

On Friday, when the last class of the day was over, Winter had almost forgotten about the duel that Harry and Draco were supposed to have at midnight. She hummed a merry tune to herself as she hurried down to the dungeons to drop off her school bag before heading off to dinner. When she went up to her dorm, Winter found a little envelope laying on her bed.

The Slytherin girl let her book bag drop to the floor as she picked up the letter and examined her name on the front which was written in Dumbledore's familiar handwriting. Winter let a wide grin spread over her face and began to tear open the envelope. She hadn't been able to talk to the Headmaster since school started. The girl pulled out a piece of parchment from the wrapping and scanned the letter with excited eyes.

_Winter,_

_As of the past week, I have been quite busy with sorting out student profiles and helping a few Muggle-borns to fully understand magic. I am pleased to say that tonight, at 10:00, I have some time for you to come and visit me. I'm sure you would like to tell me about your first week. There are also a few matters that I wish to discuss with you as well. Take this letter with you, and it will explain things to Mr. Filch if he finds you coming to my office after curfew. Take note that this will be the only time I am allowing you to wander the school after 9:00. Do not make a habit of it._

_-Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. Have you ever heard of lemon drops? It's a lovely Muggle treat I discovered a few years ago. They're quite delicious, I must say._

Winter giggled at the Headmaster's last phrases. "Lemon drop" was the password to get past the gargoyle statue, she assumed. After folding the letter up and placing it back into its envelope, Winter went down to the common room to find Pansy and Draco.

Her two friends were sitting on the armchairs near the fireplace with their parchment and textbooks open. Draco was scratching his quill over a piece of parchment, writing the first essay that Snape had assigned to the class about the uses of troll's hair. Pansy was frustratedly whipping her wand around, practicing her "swish and flick" motion as they were not allowed to do any real spells outside of class.

Winter let her eyes roll to the ceiling when she remembered that she hadn't even started on her essay for Snape yet. She had planned to play with Huntington outside since it was a very bright and sunny day, but she decided to get her essay over with first. It wouldn't be easy writing it at the last minute, and Winter didn't want to get a bad marking on her first writing assignment. She couldn't imagine how embarrassing that would be…

The Slytherin girl reluctantly went back up to the dorm and grabbed some parchment and her copy of _A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. She dropped the thick textbook on the table with Pansy and Draco and ungracefully flopped down beside her friends before flipping to the page about troll's hair.

None of them said anything for the first few minutes as they were all concentrating hard on what they were doing. After filling up six inches of her roll of parchment, Winter laid down her quill to take a break and flex her stiff fingers. She glanced to her left at Draco's essay and found that the blonde's hand was still over his quill, and he continued to write, the quill scratching across the brown paper with feverish speed.

Draco had already written more than he was required, but he continued scribe the information he got from reading the textbook, looking up only once in a while to glance over a paragraph on page 28 of _A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._

Winter sighed when she saw that her essay was barely even half way done while her friend was greatly exceeding the minimal parchment length that Snape had designated. "Draco?"

"Yes?" the pale boy answered without looking up from his paper.

"Why do you write so much?" Winter fidgeted with her quill for a few seconds before saying more. "You know Professor Snape will pass you no matter what you give to him. There's really no point in you trying so hard on this essay. You could write only two inches and Professor Snape would be satisfied with it. You know that, don't you?"

Draco finished writing a sentence and finally placed his quill back into the ink bottle, signaling that he was done with the Potions assignment. "I know," he said simply. "But Mother doesn't want me to get in the habit of slacking my classes. She reads over my work when she gets the chance. And besides, I enjoy taking Severus's class."

Winter was certain that Draco must be the only person in the entire school that actually looked forward to the Potions Master's lessons. She could tell that even some other Slytherins liked Flitwick's class better. There wasn't an argument that Potions was the most fast-paced course in the entire school. Snape never stopped to wait for students who lagged behind on their studies.

Draco picked up his parchment and offered it to Winter. "Here, you can read it."

Winter frowned in slight annoyance as she picked up her friend's essay and compared it to her own. As she read Draco's article, she once suspected that he had simply copied out of the textbook as the tone of the paper sounded very professional, like an adult speaking. But this assumption was quickly erased when Winter compared the composition to the textbook and found them to be in completely different styles.

The girl's eyes scanned over the impeccably written thesis. Pansy had given up on her wand waving and leaned over Winter's shoulder to get a glimpse of Draco's work. After reading the last word at the bottom on the roll of parchment, Winter huffed as she handed it back to its owner.

Draco wore a rather smug smile. He took his essay and neatly placed it into his book bag. "Flawless, wouldn't you say?"

Neither Winter nor Pansy said anything. The gears of the former's brain were turning thoughtfully, wandering if she would sound useless if she asked the blonde for some help. But before Winter could decide if she was lost enough to request assistance, Pansy beat her to it. "Draco, dear, will you help me with my paper? Pleeeease?" Pansy had gotten on her knees in front of Draco, her hands clasped together hopefully.

Draco looked like he'd much rather do something else, but Pansy continued to look up at him with helpless brown eyes and even quivered her bottom lip for good measure.

Winter smiled and rolled her eyes in amusement when Draco sighed and told Pansy to get the parchment.

Pansy jumped up, let out an excited squeak, threw her arms around his neck in a quick hug, and skipped off to look for her stash of writing utensils.

Shaking her head at the childishness of her friend, Winter grinned and picked her quill up to start on Snape's assignment again. She felt a little less frustrated with it now that she had had a break. And reading over Draco's paper had given her a few ideas for her own piece.

"Do you want me to help you too?" the blonde Slytherin offered while Pansy was gone.

Winter opened her mouth to accept, but then decided to close it again. She knew she had been requesting assistance for nearly everything she did for the past week, and she wondered if it was healthy to be so dependent upon others. Concluding that she must try to accomplish something on her own, Winter gave Draco and grateful smile, "Thank you, but I think I'll be all right."

* * *

After dinner that night, at 9:15, Winter determined that it was time to head off to Dumbledore's if she wished to speak to him. Still wearing her school robes, she went down to the common room.

Many of the Slytherins were still loitering around the common room when she passed. They paid no attention to her as she left the dungeons through the portrait hole and hastily ran up the stairs that led up to the main corridors of the castle. With the Headmaster's letter tucked into her robe, Winter arrived on the fourth floor after zigzagging through the moving stair cases and looping around the dark corners on each level.

"Huntington!" she called as she walked. When she didn't get the chance to play with the wolf that afternoon, Winter decided to take him along to see Dumbledore.

After a few moments, the large wolf came trotting up from one of the staircases that led to the Hogwarts kitchens. He carried a piece of chicken in his mouth which Winter ordered him to leave behind. Then, they happily resumed their stroll to the Headmaster's workplace.

The gargoyle statue that guarded Dumbledore's office was farther down the hall. Winter approached it quickly and was about to tell it the password when the statue suddenly slid out of the way, revealing a red haired Hufflepuff girl on the other side.

"Hello, there! I haven't seen you before, I'm Winter," Winter greeted her with a bright smile.

There was a flash of fear in the Hufflepuff's eyes when she saw Winter's face. "O-oh, hi... I-I remember you from the Sorting Ceremony. You're a S-slytherin, aren't you?"

Winter couldn't quite understand why the girl seemed so afraid. Then she remembered that Slytherin wasn't exactly that most popular House among first years. "Yes, I'm in Slytherin House. But if you think we're all about Dark Arts and supporting You-Know-Who, you are mistaken."

The Hufflepuff's eyes widened a little, and she began stuttering, "I-I didn't mean t-to offend you! I mean… a-after what the Gryffindors said about Slytherins – I just – "

"Wait, what?" Winter interrupted sharply. She didn't want to scare the girl, but what she said about the Gryffindors made the Slytherin tick for a second. Before Susan could repeat herself, Winter went on, "Are you saying a bunch of first years were trash talking Slytherin? What did they say?"

"Well…" Susan struggled to remember. "I heard Ron Weasley saying that he couldn't imagine being in Slytherin House. 'They're all loyal to You-Know-Who, those Slytherin filth!' that's what he was saying at dinner a couple of nights ago. He was telling Harry Potter that all Dark Wizards were in Slytherin House. And Harry heard from Hagrid – "

Winter's tolerance level shrunk smaller and smaller as she listened to Susan's account. _What is this?! Her thoughts were hurt and violent. Gryffindors are feeding bad information to the first years… those filthy pieces of scum!_

It is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was in Slytherin, but that doesn't say anything about the rest of the students in the House. Yes, many of Slytherin's wizards became Death Eaters, but that is perfectly understandable. They personally knew He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was friends with the other Slytherins. That made Slytherins easier to manipulate since they've known He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for years.

Winter could effortlessly convince herself that her House wasn't all bad. She had never thought negatively about any of the Houses of Hogwarts. Although she was sure that Ron and Harry were simply picking up things from the older Gryffindors, Winter still could not help but feel a dislike toward them for being so blank-minded. Now look what they'd done!

The Gryffindors have made a Hufflepuff scared of her, Winter. _And what did I ever do to seem intimidating?_ The Slytherin girl asked herself angrily. _Bloody stereotypes! And Harry Potter! I thought he'd be much careful about believing everything he hears. That Ron Weasley is feeding him a bunch of rubbish._

As if sensing his mistress's annoyance, Huntington rubbed his large head against her leg to try and cheer her up. It didn't help much as Winter ignored him.

Realizing an awkward silence had fallen between herself and Susan, Winter made her voice seem calm, "Susan, you don't have to be scared of Slytherins. Not all of us are bad. Do I seem mean or ambitious to you?"

"Well, no…"

"Then don't group me in the same category as the stereotypical Slytherin, okay?"

Susan nodded hesitantly.

Winter took in a deep breath and tried to smile sunnily like she had done before. "It was wonderful to have met you, Susan. Good night."

"Good night," the Hufflepuff replied before heading off in the direction of her common room.

Still having some trouble believing that the great Harry Potter was taking in all this trash about all Slytherins being evil, Winter shook her head and whispered to the gargoyle statue, "Lemon drop."

When the stairs leading to the Headmaster's office appeared, Winter herded Huntington up the tower. The Slytherin girl was still feeling rather sour. "You'd think that the almighty Harry Potter be noble enough as to not use stereotypes," she muttered to herself. "And Ron _seemed_ so nice, too. Bloody Gryffindors…"

They reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office and found that it was open. Winter stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind her. She forced herself to forget the issue with Gryffindors and simply enjoy her time with her favorite person in the world. "Professor Dumbledore?" she called. When there was no reply, she gazed around the room to locate the Headmaster but found that he was nowhere to be seen.

Winter went deeper into the office and observed the complex silver instruments Dumbledore set around the chamber. While examining a curious gold cabinet, the Slytherin felt a nudge from Huntington. She looked down to see him offering her a copy of _The Daily Prophet_. The girl bent down and took the newspaper from her wolf.

By looking at the date, Winter concluded that it was about a week old.

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

_Investigation continues in the break-in at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins insist that nothing had been taken. The target vault had, in fact, been emptied on that same day. When _Daily Prophet_ writers questioned what valuable object was locked in vault, a Gringotts spokesgoblin replied, "We're not telling you what was in there, so keep your nose out of it if you know what's good for you_."

"Ah, I see you've found the article about Gringotts," Dumbledore's voice caused Winter to snap her head up from newspaper. The old Headmaster had come in from one of the doorways that branched out from the office, leading to dark rooms that Winter had never been into.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," the Slytherin girl greeted, shoving _The Daily Prophet_ aside so that she could give Dumbledore her full attention.

The Hogwarts Headmaster motioned for Winter to sit in a chair in front of his desk. He scratched Huntington behind his ears before letting the wolf take a seat on the floor beside the girl. Dumbledore opened a tiny silver box that sat on his desk and took a lemon drop out of it. "How was your first week, Winter? Is there anything you would like to tell me?" he began, popping the lemon flavored candy into his mouth and offering one to his visitor.

Winter accepted the lemon drop before speaking. There was so much she wanted to talk about, and she started by bringing up what had captured her attention a few seconds ago. "Professor, I would like to ask you about what happened at Gringotts." When the Headmaster remained quiet, Winter went on, "_The Daily Prophet _thinks that dark wizards are behind the break-in. Does that mean that followers of You-Know-Who are still out there, performing crimes?"

Dumbledore looked like he was choosing his words very carefully. "I don't wish to frighten you, my girl, but yes. Many of his followers were arrested and imprisoned in Azkaban. But there are still a few that the Ministry never managed to catch after the fall of the Dark Lord. They are still out there; some try to forget what they'd done while others remain forever loyal to the Dark Side and strive to find their Lord again.

"However, unless the former Death Eaters manage to resurrect their leader, I doubt the dark wizards would have the courage to band together and attack the Ministry of Magic."

Winter felt a chill go up her spine when Dumbledore mentioned the resurrection of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "Are there easy ways that You-Know-Who's followers can bring him back?"

"There are ways," the old wizard mused thoughtfully. "But I wouldn't say any of them are easily done."

This made Winter feel slightly better and less paranoid that Voldemort could come back to power at any time. "What if You-Know-Who does come back, somehow? You and Huntington will protect me, won't you, Professor Dumbledore?" Because she was so certain of the Headmaster's answer, Winter didn't even bother to listen for one. She reached down to her wolf and let him lick her hand.

"There is something I wish to speak to you about, Winter." The serious tone from the Headmaster immediately grabbed Winter's attention. "Do you remember when you got Huntington at Diagon Alley?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, Professor, I remember it very well."

_Winter recalled her ninth birthday when she had dragged Dumbledore to Diagon Alley to buy an owl as a present. She had been so eager and determined to get to Eeylops Owl Emporium and purchase an owl of her own after so many years of having to send letters using school birds. The girl had even already decided that she wanted a female barn owl with little black spots on its wings._

_But before she could get to the Owl Emporium, Winter passed a shop called Magical Menagerie. And in the window of the pet store, she saw the most adorable, most beautiful wolf cub. In a split-second, Winter had completely forgotten about the barn owl she had been so desperate to own. She instantly changed directions and steered Dumbledore toward Magical Menagerie window._

_"Professor Dumbledore!" nine year old Winter had cried in a high pitched voice. "Look at him! He's gorgeous!" She excited pointed a finger at the tiny wolf who was pacing around in the shop window._

_The animal had placed his little paws on the glass and tilted his head to one side as Winter squeal in delight from cuteness overload._

_"Professor! Professor!" the girl begged the Hogwarts Headmaster to buy the wolf. She dropped down to her knees and made such a fuss that some passerby wizards and witches began to turn their heads and watch._

_At last, Dumbledore agreed to Winter's request and paid 15 Galleon for the two month old wolf._

_When they returned to Hogwarts castle that afternoon, Winter had practically skipped through the school, carrying her new pet in her arms. A few months passed and Huntington grew too big for shrimpy, little Winter to carry around. That was when the wolf began to wander around the castle and started developing a sense for finding magical objects, as all canines in the magical world were bred to do._

Winter shook herself out of her flashback and looked back up at Dumbledore. "I remember quite well, Professor Dumbledore. What was it you wanted to talk about, again?"

"You know that all animals have very good judgment," the Headmaster began. "Animals have a curious instinct for sensing the future and knowing whether a person is pure or foul. With this knowledge, I must ask you, Winter, to trust Huntington's judgment."

It took a while for the Slytherin to process this declaration. "I don't know what you mean, Professor Dumbledore," she replied after a moment of puzzlement.

"I want to you pay attention to Huntington's behavior around other students," the Headmaster explained patiently. "He can detect menace and sense something that might happen in the future. It would be best to stay alert if Huntington is acting strange around a particular object or person. Do you understand me?"

Winter was slightly spooked at Dumbledore's seriousness, and the intensity he put in his words. But, nonetheless, she politely said, "Of course, Professor. I'll do my best to follow your instructions."

On a happier note, Dumbledore must have picked up on the uneasiness Winter felt, so he changed the subject. "Tell me about your friends, Winter," he plucked another lemon drop from his candy box. "Have you met any notable new students since starting Hogwarts?"

The Slytherin girl's eyes lit up at the much more cheerful topic of conversation. Her mouth immediately began moving, telling the Headmaster everything. She told him about how Pansy had talked to her at the Sorting Ceremony (minus the subject of the talk) and how Draco offered to help her on Snape's essay.

Dumbledore nodded along as Winter continued to rant about how much she liked her friends. But when she mentioned Draco's last name, Malfoy, the Professor sat up a little with interest.

This movement was not missed by the curious Slytherin girl who stopped what she was saying to look at the Headmaster questioningly. "Professor? I noticed you turning stiff just a second ago. What's the matter?"

Dumbledore stroke his long white beard thoughtfully. "I remember Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, when he was at Hogwarts. He had quite an obsessive interest in removing the school of non-pureblood wizards and witches. He wasn't the nicest man, mind you; always trying to get Muggle-borns out of the school. Even now, he works at the Ministry and I received a letter from him a few months back requesting that all Muggle-related books in the library be removed so that they cannot 'poison' the mind of his son, Draco – "

"Professor Dumbledore, what are you trying to say?" Winter interjected as politely as she possibly could. The Headmaster of Hogwarts rarely ranted about anything, and the Slytherin girl sensed that he was trying to slowly approach the matter of her friendship with the son of a Muggle-hating man.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "I have not met Draco yet, so I have no right to judge him from what I know about his father. I do not even know if his opinion of Muggles is the same as Lucius's. But I want you to understand, Winter, whatever your friends might say about Muggles or half-humans or Lord Voldemort," he paused and Winter winced at the use of the forbidden name. "not all of it may be true. You have to decide for yourself what your feelings are toward these topics through experience."

Yes, Winter was very unexperienced when it came to contact with Muggles. The only knowledge she had of them were from reading small sections of the Muggle Studies textbooks and flipping through Muggle magazines that could be found in Professor Burbage's classroom. Winter made a mental note to find a Muggle-born student and ask them about their families at some point.

"Perhaps it would be helpful," the Hogwarts Headmaster suggested after a long period of silence. "if you go to the library and find a book of Muggle fairy tales, Winter. You see, Muggles don't know of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. They have no idea what 'The Tale of Three Brothers' is about. Nor do they know the story of the Fountain of Fair Fortune." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with enjoyment. "Muggle children are told the stories of Hansel and Gretel, Snow White, a Frog Prince, Cinderella, Rumpelstiltskin – "

"Rumpel-_what_?" Winter's mind swirled violently at the sound of these strange but intriguing story names. Never in her life had she heard of "Cinderella" (That sounded like a sort of Italian pasta) or "Snow White" (What was that about? Paper?) or "Rumpel-what's-his-face".

"Rumpelstiltskin," Dumbledore repeated with much amusement . "It's about an elf who wove straw into gold in exchange for a young girl's first born child."

Winter wrinkled her nose a little. "A Muggle wrote that? It's barbaric! But it is interesting, I must say. What is 'Snow White' about?"

The Hogwarts Headmaster wore a small smile. "Snow White is the name of a lovely princess whose stepmother, the Queen, was jealous of her beauty. So the Queen sent a huntsman to kill the princess."

"Yes?" Winter leaned forward in her chair, eager to hear what the princess would do.

Dumbledore grinned at her knowingly. "You can find _The Collection of Popular Muggle Fairy Tales_ by Georgina Webber in the library, in the 'W' section, on the third shelf up. I think you'll find it very entertaining." Before the girl could respond, the Professor looked to his hourglass at the other side of the room. "Merlin's beard, look at the time, Winter. It's nearly eleven. I should let you go back to your common room."

The Slytherin didn't want to leave, but she got up from the chair anyway. "Thank you, Professor, for inviting me." She reluctantly began backing out of the office with Huntington sleepily trailing behind her.

"Good night, Winter," said Dumbledore.

As she grasped the door knob, Winter suddenly remembered something that she had wanted to talk about. She turned back to the old Headmaster. "Professor, I was wondered…" she reached into the collar of her robes and pulled out the mist-filled orb that hung around her neck on a silver string. "What did you say this orb was used for again?"

"I didn't," Dumbledore answered simply. He did not say anything else, and Winter took that as her signal to leave.

She and Huntington jogged down the stairs and arrived at the gargoyle statue which jumped out of the doorway to let them out into the main halls of Hogwarts castle. They hurried to the dungeons again, passing the third floor corridor on their way down. Winter made sure to walk quickly as she knew that the third floor corridor was forbidden.

Just as she and her wolf were almost to the stairs which led down to the second floor, there came a deafening shout from somewhere behind them, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Winter froze, thinking that the bellows were directed at her. It sounded like the obnoxious voice of Peeves, an annoying little ghost that everyone wanted more than anything to punch in the face. She cautiously looked around, but found that no one had seen her. The shouts were directed at someone else. Someone else was out of bed.

Knowing that Peeves's shrieks would attract Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris, Winter herded Huntington along as fast as she could, hoping to not get caught by the overly suspecting caretaker. They rounded a corner quickly and ran straight into said person.

Winter managed to suppress a startled scream when Filch's warty face suddenly came into view in the orange light of the lantern the he carried.

Mrs. Norris was there, too. She let out a menacing hiss and batted her claws threateningly at Huntington, which effectively triggered the wolf's rage. Before Filch could demand why Winter was out of bed and Winter could explain what she was doing in the third floor corridor, Huntington had shot away from the Slytherin's side like a speeding bullet at Mrs. Norris.

"Huntington, come back!" but the wolf had already disappeared into the shadows, determined to rip the fleeing Mrs. Norris to shreds.

Winter and Filch stared at each other for a moment before they both raced down the hall after their pets. "Mrs. Norris!" "Huntington!" they cried hysterically at the same time, both only caring about the welfare of their own pet. Filch's lantern bobbed violently as he and Winter tore through the corridors. The subjects of a few paintings spat some unfriendly words at them as the light woke them up.

At last, the caretaker and the Slytherin came to a dead end in the corridor where Mrs. Norris had managed to climb onto a tall wardrobe while Huntington frustratingly paced back and forth on the floor below.

"Ooh, Mrs. Norris," Filch cooed, reaching up to retrieve his beloved cat.

At once, Huntington launched himself at them. But Winter grabbed his collar at the last second and pulled him away from the caretaker and Mrs. Norris.

"For the love of Merlin, control that beast of yours!" Filch spat at the Slytherin girl venomously. He cradled his pet as if she were a royal cat from Ancient Egyptian times.

"Me?!" Winter fumed. Huntington tugged on his dragon skin collar, but his mistress kept a firm grip. "It's always been your insufferable cat who hisses at my Huntington first! Wolves are proud creatures, I'll have you know. When you can get that hairy rat of yours "– she jabbed a finger at the smug Mrs. Norris – "to be more polite, Huntington would gladly leave her alone!"

"Why you…" Filch began as he raised his lantern threateningly. "Why are you out wandering the halls at night, anyway? I heard Peeves screaming something about students out of bed. It must be you!" He wore a creepy smile of triumph.

"I happen to have permission from Professor Dumbledore," Winter replied coolly. She slipped the Headmaster's letter out from her robe pocket and placed it in Filch's grubby hands.

The caretaker snatched up the parchment and unfolded it so quickly that he almost ripped it. His calculating black eyes moved over the words written inside it. Gritting his teeth, Filch handed the letter back, obviously disappointed that he couldn't drag Winter to McGonagall's office for detention.

Winter smirked haughtily as she took back the parchment. "Now, if you will excuse me, Mr. Filch, I need to get to back to my dormitory." She was half expecting the caretaker to come up with some other excuse to get her expelled, but at once, a terrified scream echoed from the other side of the castle.

Filch suddenly lost all desire to degrade Winter. Sensing a better opportunity to see some students expelled, he hurried off in the direction of the scream to see who else was out of bed after curfew, leaving the Slytherin and her wolf alone in the dark corridor.

With the caretaker gone, Winter was able to uneventfully make it back to her common room at 11:20 p.m. _At about this time, Draco and Crabbe should be heading off to meet Harry Potter for the wizards duel,_ the girl thought worriedly. _I hope they don't get caught by Mr. Filch…_ She entered Slytherin Dungeon through the portrait hole and found that there were still five students in the common room.

Winter did a double take when she saw that Draco was one of them, sitting in a low armchair near the fireplace. She frowned with puzzlement and approached him. "Draco? Shouldn't you be going to the trophy room now? Your duel –"

To her astonishment, Draco laughed. Well, it was more of a satisfied snicker filled with malice. "Did you actually think I was planning on going to that duel? Potter and the Weasel should be at the trophy room by now, and Filch'll be waiting for them."

Winter's eyes widened in realization. Peeves had found Harry and Ron in the third floor corridor on their way to the (nonexistent) duel. And Filch would have found them if Winter and Huntington hadn't ran into the Squib and his cat. By arguing with the caretaker, the Slytherin girl had probably allowed the Gryffindors plenty of time to escape.

Draco frowned up at Winter when he heard only silence. "Winter, are you feeling all right?"

Winter snapped out of her thoughts and tried to smile innocently. "I'm fine, just a bit sleepy, I suppose. Good night, Draco." She didn't wait for an answer before sprinting up to her dorm room, leaving Huntington in the common area.

The wolf stared in the direction in which his mistress had gone. Then he carefully paced around the dungeon and noticed Crabbe and Goyle eating cupcakes at a nearby table. Huntington watched them for a long time.

Draco's two cronies finally noticed the unfriendly look the wolf was giving them, as they quickly stopped eating to stare back.

Huntington narrowed his yellow eyes at them before turning tail and trotting up to the girl's dormitory.


End file.
